


ab intra, ad astra

by CitizenDoe



Series: ad astra [1]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Eating Disorders, Friendship, Homophobia, Kes Dameron is a Good Dad, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:00:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25937806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CitizenDoe/pseuds/CitizenDoe
Summary: Poe Dameron sucks at math and needs a tutor, unfortunately, the only person for the job is Armitage Hux.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux
Series: ad astra [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1928095
Comments: 20
Kudos: 80





	1. carpe diem

Poe knew he’d failed the algebra quiz before Sloane gave him back his paper. And when he saw the look on her face, it really drove his failure home.   
Poe Dameron sucked at math. He could do the simple stuff, no problem. The stuff he’s actually gonna use in real life. When it got to algebra, trig, all that crap, his mind went blank.   
He’d struggled with a lot of stuff in school, at first. It was all in his second language for a start, but after two years at Millennium High, he’d settled. He was a high-B, low-A student. He had a good group of friends. A part-time job. He spoke four languages. He sucked at math.   
“I suggest a tutor,” Ms Sloane was saying, when all the other students had filed out, “Miss Davey said you want to be an airline pilot. A good grade in math is essential -”  
“I know, Ms Sloane,” Poe said, “I don’t know anyone who does tutoring.”  
“I should think Armitage might be willing to help you out,” Sloane said, “I know he was looking to buff up his college applications.”  
“Hux?” Poe asked, in semi-disbelief.   
Sloane nodded, sorting through her papers.   
Poe didn’t know much about Hux, not anything that wasn’t rumours and assumptions. Quiet. Red hair. Smart. Loner.  
Maybe he’d like some company.   
So Poe smiles at Sloane and tells her he’ll be right one it.  
“You’re gonna be so impressed when I get an A, next test. An A plus plus.”  
Sloane raises her eyebrows and smiles tightly.   
“I look forward to it, Poe.” 

  
Poe saunters out of the classroom and heads to the canteen, starving hungry and a little pissed that he’s only gonna get the dregs of lunch and will barely have time eat it.   
He picks up a sad sandwich that looks like it had anaemia and a chocolate milk.   
“So, I’m a failure,” he said, plopping down.   
He sits obnoxiously between Rey and Ben, cause he still kinda disliked Ben and wants to annoy someone.   
“Aw, we know, baby,” Finn said, “But why now?”  
“Math.”   
“You didn’t do well in that algebra test, then?”  
“I did terrible. Sloane wants me to get a tutor,” Poe said, “And I kinda need math to get into college.”   
“Where are you gonna get a tutor?” Rey asked.   
Poe stabbed his chocolate milk with the plastic straw.  
“She suggested Armitage Hux.”   
Rose snorted and everyone else went quiet, which wasn’t exactly a common occurrence for the group.   
“What’s our problem with him, again?” Poe said.  
“His Dad’s a fascist,” said Finn.  
“I mean, he’s a Republican.”  
“It’s not that different,” Finn said, darkly.   
“As far as I know, he’s not. Look, if he hates immigrants or whatever he’ll say no. I can’t fail this stupid math class again.”  
“He’s usually smoking,” Ben said, “By the bleachers.”  
“Isn’t he in your gym class?”  
“Yeah. I don’t speak to him. He can run fast and catch a ball,” Ben said, “No-one really likes him but he’s not about to get the crap beat out of him.”  
“Unfortunately,” Finn said, “He’s kinda rude. Stuck-up.”  
“Instead of saying excuse me, he’s just like, ‘move’ and it’s like, no, you move.” Rose said, helpfully.  
“Alright, well, thanks for all the well-wishes, gang, I’m off to hunt him down.”  
Poe turned to head outside. As he left, he heard Finn mutter,   
“Five dollars Hux tells him to go fuck himself.”

  
*

  
Hux is easier to find than Poe had planned for, and he sort of wishes he hadn’t eaten his sandwich quite so quickly.   
He’s hanging out under the bleachers, like Ben had predicted, away from the rest of the smokers, leaning against a stilt and looking a little like he might get blown away.   
“Uh, Hux?” He says.   
Hux fixes a pair of cold eyes on him, taking a long drag, Poe realises just how sharp those cheekbones are.  
He didn’t say anything, which, really, could be taken as a negative or a positive.   
“Ms Sloane said you might be able to tutor me in Math?”  
“How much?”  
“What?”  
“How much money are you offering me?’   
“Isn’t your dad rich?”  
Hux rolled his eyes.   
“Cigarettes cost money.” He said, coolly.   
“I have like, ten dollars.”  
“Whatever,” Hux said.   
“Is that a yes?”  
Hux shrugged.   
Poe’s turn to roll his eyes.   
“Can we meet after school?” Poe said, “We can do it…you can tutor me, I mean, at my house. Or we could somewhere, like the library or a cafe.”  
“No.”  
“No you’re not tutoring me?”  
Hux stubbed out the cigarette on the wall and put the butt back in the packet.   
Well, Poe thought, least he’s not a litterbug.   
“No, it has to be at my house,” Hux said, “And it can only be Fridays, maybe Sunday afternoons, but I doubt you’d be in for that.”  
“Today is Friday,” Poe said.   
“Very astute.”  
“I think today is fine,” Poe said, making a mental note to cancel his plans with Finn and Rey.   
“Is there anything else?’ Hux said, folding his arms across himself.  
It wasn’t a particularly cold day, but it was breezy, and Hux was wearing an oversized black overcoat, which whipped wildly around his ankles.  
“Can I have your number or something?” Poe said, “You can text me where you are after class.”  
“I don’t have a cell-phone. You can meet me at fifteen-thirty outside the main gates. I will leave at fifteen-forty-five, with or without you.”  
“Okie-dokie,” Poe said, brightly, feeling a bit stupid as he said it.  
He’d never said that out-loud before.  
Hux brushes against him as he walks off, popping a tic-tac in his mouth as he leaves.   
It takes Poe about a minute of staring at the place that Hux had been stood to realise that he been acting kind-of like a dork.  
  
*  
  
Poe text his Dad under his desk in class, and cancelled his usual Friday night plans with his friends, too.   
There was a hint of teasing in the group chat, dropping us for a date already and do our traditions mean nothing to you??  
He bolted out of his seat to ensure he wouldn’t miss Hux, assuming that he wasn’t the type to wait around, for even for a couple of seconds longer than he said he would.   
Poe kind of assumed that he’d beat Hux there, and he could lean up against the gate and say, _About time you got here_.  
Somehow, however, Hux was there waiting for him.  
Smoking, again.   
He was sort of model-looking, in that he wasn’t handsome. Poe knew he probably counted as more traditionally good-looking than Hux, but there was something about him that made him attractive. Being tall and thin with striking hair probably had a lot to do with it.   
“Do you have a car,” Hux said, blankly.  
“Uh, not yet. Do you?”  
“No. It’s not far, we can walk.”   
Hux starts to walk off, taking long, unfair strides.   
“Sure, Hugs,’ he says.   
“My name,” he said, “Is Hux.”   
“Yeah, that’s what I said, Hugs.’  
Hux went a little pink, which Poe found he really liked.   
“If this is some juvenile prank, you can fuck off right now,” Hux said.   
He stopped in the middle of the street, scowling terribly at an elderly woman who told him to watch his tongue. Poe gave her his most charming smile, one that he hoped said, sorry about him.   
“What do you mean?” Poe said.   
“It doesn’t matter,” Hux said, glaring, “Don’t you have anything better to do?”  
“No, I’d rather do work after school than hang out with my friends.”   
“You really need tutoring?” Hux said, slowly.  
“I - yes, I thought we’d had this conversation already?”   
“Yes, we did. Come along then.”   
Hux stalked off again, gloved hand clutching his cigarette like it was a lifeline.   
Poe hesitated.   
“Don’t speak to me like that,” He said, calling after Hux, or stopped suddenly again.   
“Like what?” Hux said.   
“Like I’m a little dog,” Poe said.   
Hux looked down at his cigarette, which had burnt itself out in the wind, and then back at Poe.   
Poe expected to be told to fuck off again.  
“I’m sorry,” Hux said, surprisingly, “Really. I know what I sound like, sometimes. I don’t mean it. Usually. Thank you for letting me know. I’ll try better.”   
“Ok,” said Poe, “Thanks for apologising.”  
Hux nodded, and turned around again.   
“Are you coming, Dameron?” Hux said, not looking over his shoulder.   
Poe hurried after him. 

It wasn’t a long walk, but the silence that had fallen over them made it seem like it was.   
Hux stopped suddenly.  
Poe looked around for a house, and watched as Hux pushed his arm into some shrubs, reaching down behind a wall. When he retracted it, he was holding a plastic shopping bag.   
He took his cigarettes out of his pocket, and the lighter and placed them in bag, wrapping them and returning them to shrub.   
‘‘I take it your parents don’t approve of smoking?”  
Hux nodded with a vague look in his eye and carried on walking, hands stuffed deep in his pockets.  
Poe became increasingly aware that he was in the richer part of town. The houses were bigger, with immaculate, water-wasting, wild-life unfriendly front lawns.   
He followed Hux up the path of the biggest house. Poe wasn’t an aspiring architect in any sense of the words, but the term colonial floated into his head.   
The lawn had actual stripes mowed in on it.   
It wasn’t the type of house that Poe felt particularly welcomed to, but Hux held the door open for him and gestured him in.   
“Shoes,” Hux said, “Please.”  
Poe took his brown lace-up boots off and placed them next to Hux’s shiny black ankle-boots.   
Hux hung his coat up, and took Poe’s politely.   
Poe felt a lot shorter without his boots on, and sort of scruffy.   
Hux looked like the type of person who ironed his socks.   
“Would you like a drink of anything before we begin?” Hux said, leading them into the kitchen.   
Poe tried not to show his awe, or his faint disgust, but the house was huge.   
He peered into the lounge on his way past. Between the grand piano and the chandelier, Poe felt   
poor.   
“Some people say your accent is faked.”   
Hux rose one ginger eyebrow at him, and Poe swore at himself internally.   
“Yes, I’ve heard that one, too,” Hux said, “It’s real. I lived in England until I was seven. I’ve felt no need to change it. Would you like a drink?”  
“Uh,” Poe said, “What do you have?”  
Hux frowned contemplatively and opened the refrigerator.   
“This,” he said, gesturing. He took out a bottled water, “We’re not very environmentally friendly, I’m afraid.”  
“Uh, that’s okay,” Poe said, awkwardly.   
The fridge had a large selection: and yeah, a lot of plastic.   
“You seem like the type who cares,” Hux said.   
Poe hesitated, opening and closing his mouth, like the goldfish he had when he was a kid, BB-6.   
“I don’t know if that’s an insult,” Poe said.   
“I’m sorry,” Hux said, “It wasn’t supposed to be. If I wanted to insult you, you’d know.”   
“Right,” Poe said, and decided to risk it, “Thanks, Hugs.”  
Hux huffed out a sigh. He took a long sip of his water and then placed it on the breakfast bar, wandering over to the fancy-looking coffee machine.  
“Do you like coffee?”   
“What’s the blue stuff?”  
Hux stopped grinding beans and came back over to him.   
“I…don’t know.”   
Hux reached past him, the soft grey sweater pulled up his arm. He had lovely hands.  
He took out a glass bottle of the blue stuff and read it, wrinkling his nose.   
“It’s a smoothie. With blue-green algae.”  
“Isn’t that poisonous?”  
“One might hope,” Hux said.   
He put it back and the refrigerator and stepped back.   
“I think I’ll have a coffee,” Poe said, “If that’s alright with you.”  
Poe took the liberty of closing the fridge on the poison-smoothie.  
He watched Hux make the coffee with advanced-level barista efficiency. He tried to adjust his sock so that a hole wouldn’t show. If his grandmother could see him, she’d probably yell at him for wearing such shabby socks.   
“Do you like milk?” Hux said, “I think there’s creamer, too.”   
When Poe asked for milk Hux started listing off the types of milk he had, and when Poe panic-requested coconut he started asking about sugar and syrup.   
Poe felt pretty tired and they hadn’t even opened a math book.   
Hux took his coffee black and sugarless. One way to avoid decision fatigue.   
“We’ll go to my room,” Hux said, picking up his coffee and water and drifting out. Poe swung his backpack over his shoulder and retrieved his own coffee.   
Hux’s room was predictable.   
Exposed wood-floors, highly polished. There was a black rug, white walls, white bed sheets, and a black desk, with fastidiously arranged pens and pencils. He had a large bookcase, and Poe noticed the books were organised alphabetically.   
Poe knew that if he opened the wardrobe, there wouldn’t be one item of clothing that wasn’t perfectly folded or hanging up.   
Hux looked around the room, dropping his own satchel next to the door. He put his mug on a coaster, and produced one for Poe’s drink, too.   
“You can sit there,” Hux said, pointing at the desk chair, “Wait here,”  
Poe did as he said and span around on the desk chair.   
When Hux wasn’t back after a couple of furious rotations, Poe glanced around the room and crept the top drawer of the desk open.   
A laptop, an iPad, which Poe thought might be strange, as Hux claimed not to have excess to a cell-phone, which was odd enough for a high school senior. Everyone had phones - even the poorest kids.   
Poe shut the draw and checked his own messages, reply to his father that he wouldn’t be late and yes he’d still walk the dog, and informing the group chat that he hadn’t been murdered, though he came close to drinking poison.   
He span around in the chair faster, and stopped suddenly when he saw a tall, red-haired blur smirking in the doorway, clutching a folding chair.  
“Having fun?”  
“Nah, it's astronaut training.”  
“I see, serious stuff then.”   
Hux unfolded the chair to the side of the desk and sat down fluidly.   
“What do you need help with?”   
“Math.”   
“Yes, you’ve mentioned. What exactly?”  
“Most of it. I get the numbers stuff, but not the, you know…algebra. Those kind of things. But I can count,” Poe said.   
“I’m very glad of that,” Hux said, “Do you have a notebook, so I can see where your class is?”  
“Yeah,” Poe said.   
He span back and forth on the chair a little more.   
“May I see it?”  
“Oh, right, yeah. Sorry it’s…”  
Poe handed it over. BB-8 had gotten a hold of it a few weeks before, and a few weeks before that a can of Dr Pepper had exploded inside of his backpack.   
He’d been thinking about replacing it, but it wasn’t full yet and it was still usable.   
It looked especially battered in Hux’s thin, elegant hands.   
Hux opened it to last page he’d written on. He silently read through. Poe wandered if Hux got manicures, or did his own nails.   
Poe was a kind of guy who liked to take care of himself. He worked out, used conditioner on his hair, had never used Axe body-spray. He was always working with his hands so it was kind of essential to keep his nails well scrubbed, otherwise they’d look gross, but he usually ended up cutting them too short or breaking his cuticles. Hux had perfect cuticles.   
“D’you play that piano?” Poe said.   
Hux looked up from the notebook.   
“Is it relevant?”  
“I’m just making conversation.”   
“I think the only conversation that needs to be had is regarding algebra.” Hux said, unfolding the quiz that Poe had shoved in the notebook haphazardly.   
“Hey - ”  
“How am I supposed to tutor you when I don’t know what you struggle with,” Hux said, “Your methods are all wrong.”  
“Yeah, I know,” Poe said.   
Hux stood up and pushed past Poe, retrieving his school bag from the other side of the room.   
His notebook was leather-bound. The only animal it had come into contact with was dead cow.   
“You know PEDMAS, of course?”  
“Refreshen my memory,” Poe said.   
“It’s the order of how you perform mathematical operations,” Hux said, “You do all equations with parentheses first, which is the P. Surely Ms Sloane has taught you this?”  
“It sounds familiar,” Poe said, “I know there is an order.”   
Hux placed both notebooks back on the table.   
“I suggest memorising it,”   
“Yeah, thanks, Hux.” Poe said, “And other tips?”   
“Well, there’s FOIL - or weren’t you really asking?”  
Poe rubbed at his forehead.   
“I don’t know, it’s kinda pointless. I’ve failed the same class twice and it’s senior year.” Poe said.  
“It’s only October, you have plenty of time.” Hux said, “What do you intend to do?”  
“Go to college,” Poe said, “Aeronautics, I’m not sure exactly what. I wanna be a pilot.”   
“Then mathematics is important,” Hux said, “So you should dedicate yourself to it.”  
“I guess. I already know how to fly - well, co-pilot. I’ve been flying before.”  
“It’s not enough to know somethings,” Hux said, “You have to be able to prove it.”   
“Right. My mother was a pilot. She flew for a charity, delivering aid all over the world. I think that’s what I want to do. Or the Civil Air Patrol, fly search and rescue, that sort of thing. So I don’t know - I mean, I do know what I want to do. It just comes down to whether or not to go to college, I think I should - more education couldn’t hurt, could it? And then flying planes or helicopters. I’ve only ever been up in a plane before, but I guess helicopters are more useful for search and rescue purposes. Again, I don’t think both would hurt, but it’s a rich boy dream, you know?”   
“That sounds interesting,” Hux said, “And you sound passionate about it.”  
“I am.” Poe said.   
“Perhaps you could divest some of that passion into math. Temporarily.”   
“I knew you were getting at something,” Poe said, “What do you want to do?”  
“I want you stop trying to change that subject away from what’s important here,” Hux said.   
“You make good coffee,” Poe said.   
“We all have our little talents,” Hux said, he handed him a pen, “Now work.”  
Hux had just put him to writing down the PEDMAS rules when the front door slammed close.   
Hux sighed.   
“Armitage!” A woman’s voice called, and repeated a few times.   
“Should you - ”  
“I should,” Hux said, standing up.   
Poe stayed seated, working himself up to another spin in the chair.   
“If you don’t come with me, she’ll only send me back up to fetch you,” said Hux.   
Poe followed him back down the grand staircase and into the kitchen.   
“Armitage - ” the woman said, “Who’s this?”  
She was fairly tall, with honey brown hair and striking green eyes. She was a broad woman, not overweight but noticeably sturdy. She smiled sweetly, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.   
“This is Poe,” Hux said, “We were studying together.”   
“Oh, well, it’s nice to meet you, Poe,” the woman said, “I’m Maratelle, Armitage’s stepmother.”  
“It’s nice to meet you, too, Mrs Hux,” Poe said, accepting her handshaking and giving her his best meeting-parents smile.   
He caught Hux roll his eyes.   
“Here, Armitage,” the woman held out her other hand, a little plastic container clutched in it.   
Hux took the container, eyes narrowed.   
Maratelle took another bottle of water from the fridge and unscrewed the cap. Hux opened the container, shaking out a small handful of pills into his palm, and put them in his mouth. Maratelle passed over the water bottle, which Hux drank from, and then he handed over the container back to her.   
“Did you eat lunch?”  
“Yes,” Hux said, “I had a sandwich. Ask him.”   
Hux gestured towards him. Poe found himself nodding along with the somewhat obvious lie.   
“Yeah, we met at lunch and had a sandwich.”   
She tapped his face, and Poe wondered if she didn’t notice the glare or if she simply didn’t care.   
“Good boy,” she said.   
It made Poe shiver.   
“Your father is on his way home,” Maratelle said, “I’m sorry to cut your steady-session short, but your father isn’t expecting you to have company.”  
Maratelle spoke very deliberately and Hux nodded, leaving Poe feeling like he’d missed out on some coded information.   
“I left my bag in your room, Hux,” Poe said.   
“Then you should go get it,” Hux said, stiffly. He and his stepmother were trapped in some sort of staring contest, and, honestly, Poe was happy to bounce.   
He rushed upstairs and stuffed his books back into his backpack in a hurry.   
He was on his way back down the stairs, not looking where he was going, when he collided with Hux.   
“Don’t tell anyone about this, Dameron.”   
“I’ve already told a few people your tutoring me, Hugs. You know what it’s like, you gotta let your friends know your location.”   
Hux bore his teeth together in a feral sort-of snarl.   
“You know what I’m talking about,” Hux said.   
“Sure, Hugs,” Poe said, “I’ll see you around.”   
He managed to skirt past Hux. He put his boots and jacket on quickly.   
“Your shoes are on the wrong feet,” Hux said, from the stairs.   
Poe ignored him and left. 

*  
  
Poe ran halfway home, only stopping when he started getting a bit breathy. Even with the jog, there was no reason for his heart to be pounding quite like it was.   
It wasn’t like anything had happened. Hux had an awkward relationship with his step-mother. So did a million other kids.   
Poe hated lying, even to strangers, and was pissed at Hux for making him lie. And pissed at Hux for being so weird about it, too.   
Who the hell was he to tell Poe who he could talk to? And who the hell was he to assume that he’d go around sharing personal information about Hux?  
(Poe conceded to himself that rumours about Hux were popular, on account of his near-silent nature and well-known father, who used to golf with Trump).   
He was happy to be back at his side of town, with its smaller houses and normal-looking lawns.   
He liked his own house. It was just the one floor, but it was big enough for him, his Dad, and BB-8, his foxy-looking rescue Shiba Inu.   
The backyard was pretty big, not estate like all. There was massive tree with tire swing, a ton of wild-flowers, a vegetable patch, and plenty of room to play fetch with BB.   
He let himself in through the back, which led directly into the kitchen, where his dad, Kes, was cooking.   
It was Friday, which meant it was an-all out sort of night. They almost always ate Guatemalan on Fridays, and it tasted like home, though it gave Poe a pain in his chest, for all the happiness it caused.   
“Hey,” His Dad said, “Your shoes are on the wrong feet.”   
“Ah,” Poe said, “Yeah, I guess they are.”  
“You look pale,” Kes said, “What’s wrong?”  
“Feet hurt. Brain hurts.” Poe said, “Hungry.”  
“Full sentences?”  
Poe kicked of his boots and slumped in a kitchen chair.   
“Math tutoring,” Poe said, “I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.”   
“Fail your last test?” Kes said.   
“Yeah, Dad,” Poe said, “I’m trying.”  
“I know you are, son,” Kes said, “You’re doing great in school, other than that, right? I’m proud of you.”  
“Don’t be soppy,” Poe said, “When’s dinner?”   
“When you’ve changed those damn socks.”   
  
*

  
Saturdays were reserved for time with his Dad. Kes had read some article about the importance of kids bonding with their parents, especially if they were single parents who had work long hours, and so he’d always made sure to carve out time for Poe.   
They had a lot of projects. Training BB-8, building a dog house that would never be used, teaching Poe how to drive, growing fruit and veg, and their most recent: restoring the car. In the morning they’d eat pancakes, walk BB together. Then they’d head into town to the local mechanics, the Falcon. Ben’s dad ran it, so usually he was there, but Rose was being trained by Han, and Rey and Finn would often visit.   
Kes and Poe would pick up some bits, seek advice from Han or Chewie, and head off back home.   
They’d work until sunset, Kes might crack open a beer, Poe would have a Dr Pepper, they’d play with BB, walk him again.   
At night they’d watch a movie and eat on the couch and avoid talking about Poe’s mother.   
Saturdays passed quickly, sometimes too quickly, but Poe liked them more than any other day of the week. When his mother had first died, things had been a bit strained between them.  
Poe knew his father had been depressed, he wasn’t stupid, but Kes still wouldn’t admit to it.   
Yeah, Poe loved Saturdays, but they always left him feeling kind of melancholy. 

On Sunday morning Kes would go back to work and Poe would do the homework he’d been putting off doing all weekend.   
Poe hadn’t opened his backpack since leaving Hux’s.   
It took him longer than he cared to admit of staring through pages of neat notes and scary-looking formulae to realise that he’d picked up Hux’s notebook instead of his own.   
He snapped it closed. It was just school work, but he felt like a sneak reading it all the same.   
He searched his own backpack vainly before resigning to the fact that Hux probably had it.   
Poe knew that forgetting his book wouldn’t really fly with any of the teachers he owed homework to. He had no option other than to go back to Hux and pick it up.   
He got dressed quickly, combed his hair and admired himself for a few seconds (going to the gym with Finn was working - his arms were looking toned).   
BB-8 looked disappointed when he realised Poe was going somewhere without taking him, but Poe promised that he’d get an extra long walk and as an apology, and he’s pretty sure BB understood him.   
The walk felt longer than it had Friday, and Poe willed it to last longer, because he had no idea what he was going to say if Hux’s stepmother or father answered the door. He clutched Hux’s notebook like it was a safety blanket.  
Poe couldn’t give you Hux’s address if you asked him, but it was the sort-of obnoxious design that you couldn’t forget when you saw it.   
There was a large, shiny black SUV in the driveway next to the grass, one that looked brand new, or at least like it was washed every day of it’s mud-free life.  
Poe plunged in and knocked. He’d always been better at making decisions when he didn’t think about them.   
He thought he really had managed mix up the house when a total stranger answered the door. A plump woman with blonde her in her fifties.  
“How can I help you?’ She said, with a strong Eastern-European accent.   
“I’m looking for Hu - uhh, Armitage.”  
“Armitage?” She repeated.   
She seemed shocked, and a little confused.   
“Is he here?” Poe said.   
“Of course, of course. Who is asking?”  
“Poe Dameron,” Poe said.   
“Wait here,” she said, and closed the door on him.   
He stepped off the porch and shot the door a dirty look.   
What was he going to do if he were allowed inside? Steal a fucking grand piano?  
He paced the front of the lawn for a couple of minutes, and was about to knock again when it opened.   
Hux came out, stiffly formal in a white shirt and grey slacks, carrying Poe’s battered notebook.   
“I thought about taking it to you but I don’t know where you live,” Hux said, “And I had no way of contacting you.”   
“That’s why cellphones are so useful,” Poe said.   
Hux’s lip curled, and he handed Poe’s notebook over.   
“Have you been crying?” Poe said.   
He squinted at Hux, whose eyes were pink.  
Hux scoffed.   
“Don’t be ridiculous. I have allergies.”   
Hux did look the sort to have allergies.   
“Why did you lie about lunch?”  
“What? Oh. They think I don’t eat enough,” Hux said.   
“Why?” Poe said.   
Hux pulled an ugly face.   
“Because they constantly desire to shovel food down their gullets, they think I should, too.”   
Poe nodded.   
It was almost a certainty that anything he could say risked upsetting Hux.   
At this point, he was kind of set on Hux being his math tutor.   
“Do you want to come for a walk?” Poe said, “We can get my dog.”   
“No,” Hux said, “Thank you for the offer. Another time, maybe? You can come inside if you like.”   
“Uh,” Poe said, “I really should walk my dog.”  
Hux smiled tightly, and glanced over to the monstrous SUV.  
‘Yes, I thought so,” Hux said, “He won’t be racist to your face. He’s much more insidious than that.”  
“That’s uh, not very comforting,” Poe said.   
“I thought you’d prefer I be honest, seeing as you have such a problem with me lying about a sandwich.”  
Poe squirmed, shifting his feet.   
“Well, thanks,” Poe said, “I’ll see you in school?”  
“Most likely,” Hux said.   
“And we can do this Friday? Is that really the only day you’re free?”   
Hux nodded.   
“And here’s me thinking you don’t have any friends, Hugs.”   
“Goodbye, Dameron,” Hux said, half-stony.   
Poe had already turned away, but he could hear the eye-roll in Hux’s voice.   
“Dameron!”   
Poe turned.   
“May I have my notebook back?”  
Poe looked down to his hands to see he was still holding Hux’s book, as well as his own.   
And he’d thought he was gonna leave on such a smooth note. 


	2. compos mentis

On Sundays, Hux would like to sleep in until eight-thirty. Hux would like to spend an hour studying, followed by a run and a cold shower, followed by more studying, some time practicing the piano, followed by a game of chess against the computer, followed by reading. Maybe some stretches before he went back to bed and slept.   
On Sundays, Hux woke up at five-thirty, the same time he woke up every day. He exercised quietly in his room, slipped out for a jog, returning before seven when Brendol and Maratelle would wake up. He’d shower as quickly as possible (he’d had a habit of spacing out in the shower lately), and then join them at the breakfast bar to be yelled at. Brendol would eat bacon and eggs, Maratelle would drink a vile smoothie or nibble at French toast, and he would drink coffee, until he was inevitably badgered into having toast and eggs himself.   
He’d feel sick afterwards, stomach bloated and roiling. He couldn’t help it. He never made himself throw up, not anymore. It’s why the running was so essential.   
Hux had no appetite, and watching his father eat only lessened it further.   
Then he’d brush his teeth and all three of them would go to the morning service at church. It was bullshit - Brendol Hux didn’t believe in God, he believed in PR, and the only person he worshipped was himself.   
Hux didn’t believe in God much either. When he was kid he used to pray that his mother would come back for him, and he could move away from Brendol. That never happened, and Hux realised he was shouting to the wind.   
Maratelle may or may not believe in God, Hux didn’t know, and he didn’t particularly care. The point was to be seen there, week after week, as a familial unit, but his father’s constituents.   
When they return home, Hux takes the morning dose of his medication in the kitchen in front of Maratelle, and sometimes his father stands and scoff.   
Brendol believes medication to beneath him, but won’t let him stop taking them. Maratelle likes to dole out the drugs, playing dear martyr mother. Hux likes to feel nothing, and the cocktail the quack doctor has him on helps with that.   
Hux lies down lazily for a bit, because the meds make him sleepy, but he’s usually to jittery to really relax.   
He’s desperate for a cigarette, but he can’t slip out with Brendol about, not on Sundays.   
He does extra credit homework instead. He doesn’t particularly need his notes, the assignments are kids stuff, but he misses them regardless.   
He gets distracted by Dameron’s gross-looking battered notebook that smells faintly of Dr Pepper and looks like a dog might have once really tried to eat it.   
He shifts through it, deciding that if was really private that Dameron would’ve been more careful not to leave it after Maratelle scared him off.   
Maratelle was gifted at making people feel uncomfortable without being unwelcoming.   
Dameron’s notes were unorganised, messy, it was little wonder why he was failing mathematics.   
How someone could take notes wrong was truly beyond him - so he took the liberty of making corrections, choosing a green pen, because he thought red might look too alarming. On a fresh sheet of his own paper he wrote out the notes for the last topic Dameron had been assigned, this time more neatly and writing out what he hoped might be clear and concise instructions for the equations. He folded the paper up and slotted it neatly into the page it pertained too.   
Dameron hadn’t mentioned struggling in any other subjects so he refrained from writing out an essay plan for history on the next page, but he did correct a date of a Civil War battle that may have simply been copied incorrectly.   
He sat back in his chair and tried to relax. He couldn’t keep himself from tapping with then pen on the table, and he ended up throwing the pen across the room and sat on his hands and tried to breathe and think of all the reasons he shouldn’t be so worked up.   
But then pen being across the room annoyed him, so he went up and got it and put it back where it belonged.   
Sundays meant not just breakfast with Brendol and Maratelle, but lunch, too, which was even worse and more filling.   
Most days he was left to his own devices. Maratelle made a show of checking up on him, and Brendol would tell him he needed to go to the gym more, to gain muscle (hypocrite) but that was it. He didn’t eat breakfast or lunch, it was unnecessary to eat more than one meal a day. He’d make himself something for supper, chicken or fish with salad or vegetables, and he was just fine. If he felt dizzy or tired then he’d eat something else, but such an occurrence was rare and only happened after track or boxing.   
When it came to supper on Sundays, Maratelle and Brendol were usually too drunk to care about him. That was the one grace, he supposed.   
That’s why he could relax. He opened and closed his laptop five times, before sliding it back into the drawer, and stared at his bookcase.   
He opened Dameron’s book again, flipping through all the pages this time. At the end of the notes, there was a little pen-sketch of a what might have been a dog or fox, or quite possibly a cat.   
It was good. Not that it had any real artistic merit but it was cute, with goggle-eyes and a lolling tongue hanging out.   
Hux checked the back of the page to confirm there was nothing that Dameron might miss, and carefully ripped the page from the book.   
Was it Dameron’s pet? Or ideal pet?   
If it was Dameron’s, it was probably a dog.   
Hux’s consideration of what breed might best suit Dameron were interrupted by Anika shouting for him. Hux slipped the stolen drawing into his iPad case, and went to suffer through lunch.   
Roast chicken and roast pork, who the hell needs that? Three kinds of potatoes. Every Sunday had to be like a dress-rehearsal for fucking Thanksgiving (one Thanksgiving there had been a protest on the front lawn by some local activists, Hux can’t remember what it was about, but he had found his father’s anger about the situation quite funny, until he got in the way of his father’s backhand).   
He ate chicken and vegetables, and refused the mashed potatoes and gravy Maratelle reached over and heaped on to his plate.   
It was part of the her game. He despised mashed potatoes, and always had, and Maratelle knew this, and knew Brendol would make him eat them.   
Armitage and Maratelle had been playing games like this since he’d moved in with them.   
Maratelle was clever, Hux knew, much cleverer than his father gave her credit for. She was good at people: good at making them feel special, better still at making them feel like garbage.   
As Hux got older he learned not to rise to it as much, which increased Maratelle’s efforts, which increased the likelihood that Brendol would realise what was going on and lash out at the both of them.   
Brendol would never stand up for his son, but he didn’t seem to care much for his wife, either. She definitely outranked him in the household hierarchy, but if Brendol allowed pets than a dog would probably outrank the both of them.   
Hux was not hungry, Hux was rarely hungry, and both the smell and taste and texture of potatoes twisted his stomach in a thousand knots.   
Maratelle smiled at him.   
“What’s the matter, Armitage,” she asked, voice thick and sweet as maple syrup.   
Armitage would not answer.   
“Oh darling, you’re not getting sick again, are you?” She said.  
Brendol glared from across the table.   
“I’m afraid I just don’t have much of an appetite,” Hux said.  
“Yes, we’ve heard you make that an excuse before,” Maratelle said.   
Hux took a sip of water.  
Brendol slammed his palm down on the table and swore. Hux wished he could’ve stopped himself from flinching, because reacting to Brendol only made him angrier.   
“Eat,” Brendol said.   
Hux ate half, and had to excuse himself to throw up.   
Anika was waiting outside of the bathroom for him.  
“Are you sick, Armitage?” She said.   
“No,” He said, “I’m quite well.”   
She didn’t believe him, she shook her head and tutted.   
“There’s a boy outside for you,” Anika said.   
“Who?” Hux said, “Dameron?”  
“Yes, yes,”   
“Thank you, could you tell my father?” Hux said.   
Anika fixed him with a look that said, _tell him your own damn self, coward_ , but nodded politely all the same.   
He rushes upstairs to get the notebook and returns, quietly passing the dining room and ignoring Brendol shouting for him.   
“I thought about taking it to you but I don’t know where you live,” Hux said, “And I had no way of contacting you.”   
Dameron shot him a cheeky, flashy grin.   
“That’s why cellphones are so useful,” He said, teasingly.   
Hux tried for an unsuccessful smile, and gave Dameron’s notebook back.   
Dameron had perfect skin, tan and clear, he’d probably never had acne a day in his life.  
“Have you been crying?” Dameron said, pityingly.  
Hux took a step backwards, crossed his arms over his body, protecting himself from the chill.   
He’d been feeling the cold lately.   
“Don’t be ridiculous. I have allergies.”   
In October? Stupid.   
“Why did you lie about lunch?”  
“What?” Hux said, and remembers Friday, “They think I don’t eat enough,”   
He considered, fleetingly, thanking Dameron for going along with the lie.   
“Why?” Dameron said.   
Hux hesitated. A million little lies zoomed around his head like mosquitos, none of which seemed particularly convincing, even to himself.   
“Because they constantly desire to shovel food down their gullets, they think I should, too.”   
He’d meant to say, I just don’t have much of an appetite.   
Dameron’s already large eyes widened dazzlingly, but he kept the smile fixed on his face, even if it was little dimmer.  
“Do you want to come for a walk?” Dameron said, “We can get my dog.”   
“No. Thank you for the offer. Another time, maybe? You can come inside if you like.” Hux said, knowing full well that Dameron would be unlikely to take him up on the offer.   
“Uh,” Dameron said, “I really should walk my dog.”  
Hux wanted to ask about the dog, ask about Dameron’s family. Dameron was glancing nervously at Brendol’s car.  
‘Yes, I thought so,” Hux said, “He won’t be racist to your face. He’s much more insidious than that.”  
“That’s uh, not very comforting,” Dameron said.   
“I thought you’d prefer I be honest, seeing as you have such a problem with me lying about a sandwich.”  
Dameron fidgeted, and then tried to correct his posture to appear more relaxed: feet wider apart, shoulders drooping, one hand in a pocket.  
“Well, thanks,” Dameron said, “I’ll see you in school.”  
“Most likely,” Hux said.   
“And we can do this Friday? Is that really the only day you’re free?”   
Hux nodded.   
“And here’s me thinking you don’t have any friends, Hugs.”   
“Goodbye, Dameron,”  
Dameron started to saunter away, and Hux watched him leave for a few seconds, admiring the view, until he realised that he’d been given his own notebook back.  
“Dameron!” Hux said, “May I have my notebook back?”

  
*

  
The week passed quickly, as it usually did. As much as Hux had a distaste for school in general, it at least meant not being at home. Friday came all too quickly, and the only saving grace would be seeing Dameron. If Dameron deigned to show up - which he might have changed his mind about. Hux wouldn’t be surprised. The last tutoring session had been odd, and maybe Dameron was just being nice when he had come to pick up his book.   
Hux waited, smoking his last cigarettes before the weekend. It was after his second that Dameron came out - early enough that Hux had no right to saunter off without him, but late enough that Hux felt annoyed. And has with his little crowd of friends, who Hux barely recognised as Ren’s girlfriend, and Frank or Fred or something, who he had been partnered up with in chemistry.   
Hux prayed to whatever being in the universe that might be listening that Poe didn’t bring his troupe over.   
Thankfully, Dameron hugged and kissed his friends like he was never going to see him again and pranced over to wear Hux was standing. Hux tried hard to not scowl.   
“Hey, Hugs,” Dameron said, “You ready?”  
“Are you?” Hux said.   
Poe didn’t register Hux’s dissatisfaction, and began walking brightly along side him.  
“Did you have a good week?” Dameron said.  
Hux didn’t answer him. He really couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t sound rude.  
“That bad, huh?” Dameron said.   
Hux again didn’t answer. He thought about taking out another cigarette for something to do, but he was already feeling dizzy.   
Hux offered Dameron a coffee.  
“Of course, it is your specialty,” Dameron said, leaning against the kitchen counters.  
Hux felt uncomfortable at the way Dameron paid such close attention to him.   
“Are we going to your room?” Dameron said.  
Hux shook his head.  
“Dining room. My father will be home early,” Hux said, “He’ll only want to meet you.”  
“Right, uh,” Dameron said, “Is he going to be okay with me being here?”   
It was a legitimate enough concern to have, Hux supposed, considering his father’s politics.   
As long as we’re not fucking on the dining room table, we’ll be fine, Hux thinks, and swallows a hysterical laugh.   
“As long you don’t spill that coffee on Maratelle’s rug, you’ll be alright,” Hux said, “My father likes to keep appearances.”   
“I never spill anything,” Dameron said, confidently, flashing him a smile.   
Hux led him into the dining room and started unpacking his bag. Dameron dropped his backpack onto the table, Hux winced.   
Maratelle would create if the table was scratched.   
Dameron didn’t notice and sat down. Hux deliberated on where to sit, opposite him would be the most comfortable option, though might be too far away.   
Dameron leaned back on the chair legs.   
“Don’t do that,” Hux said.   
Dameron fell forwards, the legs of the chair coming down with a loud thud on the chair. Hux screwed his eyes closed for a couple of seconds.   
“What’s up?” Dameron said.   
“I have a headache,” Hux said, “I get them a lot.”   
“Oh,” Dameron said, eyes widening pityingly, “I’m sorry. Is that the medication you were taking?”   
Hux nodded, grateful for the opportunity of an easy lie.   
“We can cut this short, if you want.”   
“No, I’m tutoring you,” Hux said.   
He at least wanted Dameron to stay until his father came home - Brendol often went easier on him with company about.   
“I didn’t pay you last week,” Dameron said.   
“Forget about it,” Hux said, “I don’t need the money. I was trying to scare you off.”  
“Oh,” Dameron said, “That didn’t work.”   
“Obviously.”   
Dameron grinned, ear to ear.   
He had perfect teeth. White, even, hidden by lips that looked soft.   
“I used the stuff you left in my book,” Dameron said, “The notes? I mean, it was kinda nosy of you but it was useful. So, uh, thanks for that. And I made a poster for that PEDMAS thing, to help me remember it better.”  
“Good, I’m glad you found me useful.” Hux said, “What was it that you wanted to work on?”  
“Are you gonna sit down?” Dameron said, patting the chair next to him.   
“Of course,” Hux said, “I was just stretching.”  
A stupid lie. He obviously hadn’t been stretching.   
Why did Dameron make him such a stupid liar?   
He sat down next to Dameron, too close. Dameron smelled nice. Citrus-y, a hint of musk, maybe coconut?   
He considered complimenting him, but pushed that thought to the back of his mind. Relationships in High School served only to harm. Hux and Dameron got stuck into linear equations, Dameron only sporadically attempting to change the topic.   
“What do you want to do in college?” He’d say, and Hux would tell him to answer the question.   
“When did you move to the U.S. again?” He’d ask, and Hux would tell him to finish the equation.   
“How long have you been a smoker?” Dameron said, putting his pen down.   
“Shut up,” Hux said, looking behind him, though he was sure he would hear the door slam closed if Brendol had returned.   
“Seriously, don’t you know that they could kill you?”  
“Really? I hadn’t heard that one,” Hux said, “Are you done?”   
“Nearly,” Dameron said, “I need you to look over this homework assignment…”   
Hux heard the car pull into the driveway and sighed, Dameron didn’t seem to notice, just started digging in his backpack for the homework.  
Hux almost let himself relax when Brendol walked part-way past the dinning room without looking in.   
“Armitage,” He said, lingering, “Who is this?”  
“This is Poe Dameron,” Hux said, “I’m tutoring him in mathematics.”   
“Him?” Brendol said, ignoring Hux and looking at Dameron, “You’re getting tutored by him?”   
“Uh, yes, Mr Hux,” Dameron said, “My math teacher recommended him. He gets the best grades in class.”  
Hux willed his skin to not betray his blush, but he cold feel his face grow hotter.   
“I’d expect him to, as well,” Brendol said.   
Hux tried to make eye contact with his father, to beg him to not tell Dameron anymore.   
“You know he got held back a year?” Brendol said, “And kicked out of his old school?”   
Hux slunk back down his seat.   
Dameron had an honest face - he couldn’t hide his shock.   
“Well, he’s helped me already and it’s only our second session,” Dameron said, when he recovered “So maybe that experienced helped him. He’s saving me from flunking.”   
Brendol gave Dameron a tight lipped smile, and glanced at Hux, who’d moved onto staring at Dameron.   
“Maybe so,” Brendol said, “I’ll leave you boys to it.”   
Hux took to massaging his temples with his palm.   
“You should go,” Hux said, when he’d gathered himself.   
“We were in the middle - ”   
“Go.” Hux said, “It’s not a suggestion.”   
“I need your help with this homework,”  
“You have plenty of friends,” Hux said, “Can’t you get one of them to do it?”   
“You said you’d help,” Dameron said, “Now you’re kicking me out because your dad is bit of an asshole?”   
“Exactly, now go.”   
Dameron was shaking his head, muttering under his breath.   
Hux stayed seated.   
“You know something,” Dameron said, “I don’t like to listen to rumours. But what I heard about you was true. You kind of are an asshole.”   
Hux raised his hands in an exaggerated shrug.   
“Is that supposed to make me change my mind?” Hux said.   
“I’ll show myself out,” Dameron said.   
“Good, because I certainly wasn’t going to do it.” 

  
*

  
Friday night was predictable: his father gave him grief for having people over without consulting him first, Hux pointed out that Maratelle knew, Maratelle denied it, and Hux got hit for lying.   
He felt a little sick about Dameron.   
Dameron was annoying, but no more annoying than anybody else Hux knew. It was unlikely that Dameron would go around telling people that he’d been held back at school. Dameron had, after all, stood up for him. Which was stupid.   
Brendol wasn’t in the business of hitting other people’s kids, but the disgusted way he’d looked at Dameron afterwards made Hux’s stomach drop. Brendol took every slight, every disagreement, every side-eye as a serious sign of disrespect.   
Dameron hadn’t pushed him too far, but he’d be on thin ice. One misstep and Brendol would pull him right through.   
All night Dameron kept running through his mind, and when he opened his iPad to distract himself and look at a code he was working on, the stupid drawing of Dameron’s dog fell out and made him feel worse.   
He slept badly, and spent all of Saturday morning with his thoughts.   
He was thankful for the boxing day, it helped him stop thinking so much.   
Kylo Ren and Hux were not what he would willingly define as friends, but shared a quiet camaraderie at the boxing gym. Ren went to work on his anger issues, Hux went because his father thought it a good way to toughen him up.   
Ren had his own little gang there, but he had told Hux once that sometimes he just wanted to workout without them following him about. And so on Saturdays Hux and Ren went late evening, after closing (with permission from the gym’s owner) and trained together.   
Ren was competitive, and so was Hux. Ren undeniably had the advantage: they would never be in the same weight class in a real boxing match. Hux was a little faster, a little sneakier.   
Ren usually won, yes, but the failures weren’t a total embarrassing loss. They barely spoke. Occasionally Ren would tell him to put his god-damn hands up, and Hux would tell him to stop standing there like a statue and move.   
Today, however, Ren decided to break their solemn oath of quietly beating the shit out of each and talk.   
“I don’t know,” Ren said, hanging about outside the ring, “You look like crap.”   
“What does my appearance have to do with anything?” Hux said.   
“You don’t look like you should be boxing,” Ren said, “I don’t wanna hit you.”  
“Ren, never in your life have you ever wanted to not hit something.”   
Ren rolled his eyes, but, egged on (he was easily wound up) he jumped in the ring after Hux.   
“I’m being serious,” Ren said, “I’m concerned about you.”   
“Be more concerned about yourself,” Hux said, “Heard you got a suspension. Again.”   
“Shut up,” Ren said, and finally took a rather half-hearted swing at him.   
Not content with shutting up just yet, Hux decided to press on.   
“What did you do this time?” Hux said, “How much are you parents going to have to may in property damage?”   
Ren’s second punch, at least, was fully-hearted.   
Hux returned it with a jab in Ren’s ribs.   
They carried in their normal manner for a few minutes until Ren took a step back.  
“OK, what’s wrong with you?”  
“What?”  
“You’re even more of a miserable asshole than usual,” Ren said, hitting his gloves together.   
“I’m a miserable asshole because I want to do what we came here to do?”   
Hux pushed his gloves off and jumped out of the ring to grab his water, but stumbled, he felt like his brain was floating untethered in a sea.   
He closed his eyes and counted for a few seconds.   
“There’s something wrong,” Ren said.   
“I have a headache,”   
“Heartache, more like.”   
“What?”   
Ren had said it in barely more than a whisper  
“Poe Dameron was texting Rey last night,” Ren said, “About your argument. Do you like him?”   
“No,” Hux lied, sitting down on a bench heavily.   
Ren smirked, his dark eyes seemed glow.   
“When have you ever helped anyone without getting something in return, Hux? I’ve seen you look at him.”   
“I don’t look at him,” Hux said, “But the argument was stupid. My father - makes things difficult.”  
“I’ve met him,” Ren said, “And Dameron is cut up about it.”   
Hux drank half his water in a couple of gulps, more for a way to avoid keeping up the conversation than due to actual thirst. He closed his eyes and tried to refocus, searching desperately for the energy to get up.   
A projectile hit him in the face, Hux opened his and picked up a protein bar from his lap. Ren was stood at the overside of the room, hand still in a throwing position.  
“You should really eat that,” Ren said, and turned to pack away his gym bag. 

*

There was no way of getting out of church, but Hux wasn’t going to stick around much longer. He changed from his church clothes into black jeans and a slim-fitting charcoal sweater and packed up the work he’d been playing around with the previous night for Dameron.   
Maratelle was keeping Brendol distracted in the kitchen with some discussion about re-decorating.   
He’d had to ask Ren if he knew where Dameron lived the previous evening, and Ren had a smug, knowing sort of smile that Hux hated.   
It wasn’t too long of a walk, and the rain was just a light spray that Hux actually enjoyed.   
Dameron’s house had a cottage-like feel to it, looking more befitting of a place in forest than a suburb at the poorer side of town. It was made of grey stones and had Tudor-inspired exposed wooden planks on the outside, a covered porch that had small bench, home to a family of pumpkins, just a few weeks too early.   
Hux knocked and waited for an answer, breathing in the smell of the dozens of plants that decorated the garden - wisteria, he always knew from smell.   
Hux had read once that olfactory memory was one of the strongest, most persistent types of recollective memory.   
He had no pictures of his birth mother, and could never seem to put the pieces of her face together to complete a whole person, but he knew she smelled of wisteria and sea salt.   
Hux knocked again, and with no answer, decided to turn away.   
He’d made it half way back down the driveway when he heard Dameron’s loud, barking laugh, followed up by actual barking.   
The backyard had no gate or fence blocking it off from the driveway, so Hux elected to invite himself back there.   
“Dameron,” he said.   
The orange-white fox-dog charged at him happily, running head first into his shins and then backing up to do it again.   
“Hey, down, BB,” Dameron said, “ _échate_ ,”  
The dog pranced back to its master.   
“Hey, Hux,” Dameron said, bending down to scratch the dog behind its ears.   
“I’m sorry to barge in,” Hux said, “Though I actually came to apologise for Friday.”   
“Okay,” Dameron said.   
“I’m sorry,” Hux said, “I over-reacted. To nothing. And I acted like an idiot.”   
“Yeah, you kinda did,” Dameron said, “But I get why.”   
Hux struggled to meet Dameron’s eyes, instead he watched the dog run madly around Dameron in circles.   
“You don’t look great,” Dameron said.   
“Oh, fuck you,” Hux said, crossing his arms across his chest.   
“Jeez, what?”   
“First Ren and now you,” Hux said, “I always look like crap.”  
“No you don’t.” Dameron said, “I didn’t say you looked like crap, I said you looked not-great. As in sick. I’m sorry if I mistranslated.”   
“Don’t pull that with me, Dameron, your English is perfect and you know it. Kylo Ren said I looked like crap yesterday.”   
“Ben?”   
“Yes, I believe that’s one of his alter-egos.” Hux said.   
“I didn’t know you were friends with that guy,” Dameron said.   
“I am not. We box, on Wednesdays and Saturdays.”   
“You box?” Dameron said.   
“Yes, I’m capable of exercise, even if I do look like crap.” Hux said.   
Dameron laughed.   
He had a terrible laugh. It was comforting that it was ugly.   
Hux fixed his eyes on the dog, which had taken to jumping about at the end of the garden.  
It was much smaller than the one Dameron drew.   
“Your dog is fat,” Hux said.   
It was an honest but apparently unwise observation, as Dameron looked mortally offended.   
“Don’t listen to him, BB-8.”   
“And BB-8 is a ridiculous name,”  
“It’s a family name.”  
“A family name?” Hux repeated, “BB-8 is a family name.”  
“Well, when you say it sounds ridiculous. My Dad called his first cat Beebee. And when she died and he got a dog, he called it Beebee-the-second. And things escalated.”   
“Of course,” said Hux, and looked down at the dog, “Your human is crazy,”   
BB-8 gave a happy, affirmative bark, before starting to speed in circles around the garden once before.  
“Traitor,” Dameron muttered, “I didn’t think you’d come over.”  
“Neither did I,” Hux said, “I like your garden.”   
“My dad’s a garden designer,” Dameron said, “He and his friend have a company.”   
BB-8 dropped a ball at Hux’s feet. Hux tried to ignore the dog, but after he gave off a couple of bossy barks Hux relented and reached down to the slobber-coated ball.   
He threw it across the garden. The orange-and-white dog ran halfway towards it, before getting distracted and yapping at a bird perched on a feeder.  
“How long have you had it?”  
“I’ve had him three years and four months.” Dameron said, “Have you had any pets?”  
“No,” Hux said, “My father isn’t exactly an animal lover. Neither is Maratelle, come to think of it.”   
“No ponies then?” Dameron said.   
“My father did own a race horse for a bit, when I was younger.”   
“I was joking, actually,” Dameron said, “But I’m not surprised. What did he do, get rid of it when it lost a race?”  
“Exactly,” Hux said.   
He scratched away dirt that BB-8 had gotten on his trousers and shivered.  
“Do you wanna come inside?” Dameron said, “You look cold.”   
Hux nodded.   
“I brought some notes, if you still need a tutor.” Hux said, “I’ll try and be less like myself.”  
Dameron stood up and led him into the house.   
It was small, compared to what Hux was used to it. Cosy is what everybody says when they really mean cramped, but the Dameron household really was cosy. The kitchen was a bright, happy yellow, the living room had white walls but was decorated by bright art work and plants.   
BB-8 pushed past them both to get to Dameron’s bedroom, bouncing about on his bed (thinking about all that hair made Hux itch).  
Dameron said something to dog in Spanish, and though the dog gave a soft whine, it jumped down and settled in a dog bed in the corner.  
Dameron started to clear a space at his own desk, piling up textbooks and novels and sketchpads.   
“Do you like to draw?” Hux said, though he knew the answer.  
“Yeah,” Dameron said, “Mostly doodles and stuff, not fine art or anything.”  
“I was terrible at art, before they let me drop it.” Hux said.   
“I can’t imagine you being terrible at anything,” Dameron said, slinking down onto his bed, clutching a handful of t-shirts.   
“You heard my father,” Hux said, “I was held back. At my old school.”   
“The one you were expelled from?” Dameron said.   
He was asking carefully, like he was trying not to spook a particularly anxious horse. He definitely didn’t want to tell Dameron about the Academy, nor did he particularly want to share why he’d been held back in fifth grade.   
“No, the one before that, in elementary school. I was expelled from my first High School. I transferred here just before you did, actually,” Hux said, “You stole all my new kid attention.”  
“Ah, sorry about that, Hugs,” Dameron said, with a grin, “I didn’t know that. I kind of assumed you’d always gone there. Who else would’ve been holding up the bleachers all through lunch? You’re part of the scenery.”  
“Yes, well, if I fail to get into my desired college I shall have a stunning career as a vertical plank,” Hux said.   
Dameron snorted and grinned, like he was actually laughing with Hux and not at one of his own jokes.   
“See, we both have fall-back plans.”   
“What was yours?”  
“Male-stripper. If you’ve got the looks, you’ve got the looks. And I’ve got the looks.”  
Hux searched him for any hint of sincerity.   
“Do you want to look at these notes?” Hux said, taking the plastic wallet out of his bag.   
“You did all this?” Dameron said, looking through the papers.  
“Yes. I haven’t answered any of the questions, but the instructions are quite explicit,” Hux said, “I thought I owed that to you, even if you don’t want me to continue tutoring you.”  
“Thanks, Hugs,” Dameron said, “I took the assignment with me, how did you know what the questions were?”  
Hux shrugged and tried for a lean against Dameron’s closet.  
“Did you memorise them?” Dameron said, “That’s crazy.”  
“Sorry,” Hux said, automatically.   
“No, I meant crazy in a good way,” Dameron said, “And I still want you to tutor me. I’m starting to like spending time with you.”  
 _That’ll change,_ Hux thinks, but lacks the capacity for honesty to actually say.   
“You’re not as annoying as you friends,” Hux said instead.   
He sets Dameron to answering the questions, and he gets half of them right the first time. While Dameron is making corrections, Hux decides to organise books.   
Dameron doesn’t tell him to stop, so he settles into the task.   
“You’re a real neat-freak, you know that?”  
“I just like things to be in their place,” Hux said.   
Dameron’s a fast enough learner, and though Hux is hardly a bastion of patience he concludes that all Dameron needs is a little one-on-one time, something that the average teacher in a public school is simply unable to offer.   
He leans over Dameron to check the work, and breathes in Dameron’s unique, fresh smell once again.   
Hux considers, for a few seconds, kissing him, just to see what Dameron’s reaction would be.   
Dameron was openly bisexual at school, and had a few standard melodramatic high school relationships, so he didn’t expect Dameron to get angry with him.   
Dameron was kind and forgiving, he’d let Hux down gently.   
He’d just moved in a little closer when Dameron’s bedroom door swung open. BB-8 jumped delightedly and rushed to greet the man who Hux could only assume to be Dameron’s father (much taller than Dameron, about Hux’s height, a little broader, too, in the way that middle-aged men get. He had the same thick, dark curls).   
“Didn’t know you had company,” He said, folding his arms across his chest, giving out a lopsided grin (Dameron had inherited that, too, or else they both rehearsed their smiles in the mirror).  
“My math tutor,” Dameron said, leaning back on the chair’s hind legs, “Hux.”  
Hux straightened up.   
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr Dameron,” Hux said.   
He held out his hand.  
“Call me Kes,” Dameron said, taking his hand, but looking incredulous, “You finally got a polite friend, Poe.”  
“He’s not that polite,” Dameron said, “You should hear him when we’re alone, f-ing this, f-ing that. He’s the worst influence I’ve ever met.”  
“I’m not sure I believe that,” Kes Dameron said, “Is he staying for dinner?”  
Hux looked at Dameron, who was looking right back at him.   
Dameron probably expected him to say no.   
“I’d love to,” Hux said, “If you’re sure I wouldn’t be imposing.”  
“No, no, I always cook way too much for just the two of us.”   
“Thank you,” Hux said.   
Dameron Sr gave another one of his son’s trademark grins, winked at Poe and then backed out of the room, closing the door behind him.   
“You don’t have to stay, if you’re doing it just to be polite.”  
“I wanted to stay,” Hux said, “As long as it’s alright with you.”   
“It’s great,” Dameron said, “You said the other week you don’t like to eat much, is all.”  
“I’d eat a live cow to delay dealing with my father,” Hux said, and surprised himself with his candour.  
“Oh,” Poe said “I don’t think the cow would like that very much.”   
“I dare say it wouldn’t.” 


	3. clarere audere gaudere

Poe had settled into a new routine with Hux. Hux had stayed late the first Sunday they had spent together, and Poe had almost felt worried about him going home (on Monday, he had a bruise on one of those sharp, sharp cheekbones).   
They wouldn’t speak at school. Hux continued keeping himself to himself, and one Tuesday when Poe invited Hux to come sit with him at lunch, Hux looked as though he had been told he had just three weeks to live, and brushed past Poe, leaving him wondering if the tutoring, was, in fact, off again.   
Over the weeks they’d moved beyond algebra onto yet more tortuous things, like geometry, until Hux decided to put Poe onto SAT practice tests.   
Hux had planned to take his in December, and so split his time between practicing his own and helping Poe. Poe had signed up for the March tests. He’d done better in the last couple of pop quizzes Sloane had set, and well on the homework assignments that Hux had helped with.   
Fridays were still still spent in the awkward confines of Hux’s house, but Sunday afternoons were spent at Poe’s, with only a few exceptions breaking apart their schedule (Hux having to attend a piano exam, and Poe spent Halloween with Finn, Rey, Rose and Ben’s at Rose’s house, having a monster movie marathon and handing out candy to kids. Hux declined the invitation to join).   
Hux was still about as prickly as a porcupine, which was still considerably softer than he’d been when they’d started.   
He always made Poe leave before his father got home, but was happy enough to hang around with Kes and BB-8.   
He’d started coming earlier on Sundays, straight after Church, and leaving later. Poe’s dad didn’t mind - he worked half the day on Sunday.   
The Sunday routine was comfortable - Poe and Hux would walk BB-8 together, have coffee, do some work, and then they’d play poker (Poe had to teach Hux this - it was something, at least, that Hux wasn’t particularly good at). Then Kes would come home and they’d eat, and Hux would stay late and watch a movie with them.   
“Do you want to go on a hike, on Sunday?” Hux said, just as Poe was leaving one Friday.   
“It’s December,” Poe said.   
Hux shrugged.   
“I need to clear my head. I thought we could leave early with BB-8.” Hux said, “My father is in D.C. on some business.”   
“You’re not gonna make me study on this hike, are you?”   
Hux shook his head.  
“No school stuff. I won’t even mention the word ‘math’, I promise.”   
“Then it sounds nice,” Poe said, “Didn’t mark you as one for hiking.”  
“I am just full of surprises, Dameron.”   
“You know, I’d prefer it if you call me Poe.” Poe said.   
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hux said, “Goodbye, Poe.”   
“See ya Sunday, Hugs.” 

*

“Did you have nice date last night?” Kes asked, elbow deep in grease.   
“It was a study session,” Poe said, “He’s just my tutor.”  
Kes snorted, taking the wrench the Poe had been absent-mindedly tapping on the nearby work-bench.   
“He spends too much time on my sofa watching movies to just be a tutor.”   
“Fine. Friend then,” Poe said, “He’d probably say acquaintance.”  
“He probably would,” Kes said, with a chuckle, “But he spends a lot of time looking at you for an acquaintance.”   
Poe’s face got a little hot.   
Was Kes right? Did Hux watch him?   
Poe had a slightly shallow little crush on Hux, he was grown-up enough to admit that. He was good-looking and smart and a little rough around the edges, in his own way.   
He took the wrench back off his Dad.   
“Even if he did,” Poe said, “You know who his Dad is. It’s not like he’d ever be my boyfriend.”   
“His dad’s as much a jerk as his voting record predicts, then?”  
Poe nodded, though Kes couldn’t see him with his head under the hood.   
“Worse, I think.”   
“Go start it,” Kes said.   
Poe climbed into the (doorless) front seat of the car and did as he was told. Kes stood back, arms folded across plaid shirt.   
It sounded promising for a couple of seconds, and then it made a sickly phut phut phut sound before Poe cut the engine and sighs.   
“This thing ever gonna work?”   
“Sure,” said Kes, “Maybe when you’re thirty.”   
Poe gets back out of the car and watches his Dad reverse all the work they’d just done.   
“We’re going hiking tomorrow. Taking BB8.”   
“That sounds like a date,” Kes said.   
“It’s not a date, Dad.”   
“Am I feeding you tomorrow, then?”  
“I’m not sure how long we’ll be, or what time we’ll be back.”   
“I can make something up for you tonight, and you can take it with me.”   
“You’re giving me a picnic to take on my not-a-date?” Poe said, “Are you trying to set me up?”  
Kes gave a lazy shrug, cleaning up his hands with a rag.   
“He’s an OK kid,” Kes said.   
“Do you think so?”   
“He’s quiet, he’s polite, he’s less expensive than a real tutor.”   
“He’s not that polite,” Poe said, “He can be really grumpy.”  
“And you’re never grumpy?” Kes said, “If I recall correctly, you spent a week refusing to talk to me after I told you unicorns weren’t real.”   
“I was five!”  
“And very grumpy.” 

*

Poe woke up even earlier than he had needed to. Originally, he’d planned to skip the morning shower, as it was likely he’d just get gross and sweaty from the hike anyway, but after nearly an hour of lying in bed and not sleeping, he kicked his sheets away and stumbled into the hallway. BB-8 stirred, too, and decided it was time to play.   
Poe quieted the little yaps with sausage, and took a long shower.   
Hux played on his mind, as he had all night. His dad had seemed to think it was obviously a date, and Hux obviously liked him.   
Did Hux think it was a date?   
Was Poe Dameron dense?  
He dried off in the bathroom, returned to his bedroom to pat his hair dry and apply a little oil to keep the ends from splitting. Deodorant, a tiny bit of cologne. He didn’t want to smell like a try-hard.   
He dithered about clothes for a couple of minutes, feeling silly. It was a damn hike, what did it matter?   
He settled on a pair of brown pants, a cool t-shirt with a warmer sweater (he looked good in burgundy).   
“We’re going on an adventure,” Poe said to BB-8, “With Hux.”   
BB-8 gave a pleased little bark, and Poe scratched him behind the ears.   
He waited impatiently, tying and untying his bootlaces until seven-thirty on the dot. He clipped BB-8’s leash on and picked up his backpack and jacket.   
Hux was waiting for Poe at the bottom of the front yard. He bent down to greet BB-8.   
“Guess I know who comes first,” Poe said, and Hux tickled the dog between his ears.  
“Don’t you know? I’m using you for your dog,” Hux said, straightening up.   
He picked up a backpack from the floor and took a flask out of the side-pocket.  
“I brought you coffee,” Hux said, handing it over to him.   
“Is it so I feel less used?”   
“I can’t believe you’re on to me already,” said Hux. “You’re smarter than you look.”  
“Do you know where we’re going?” Poe said.  
Hux nodded.  
“Will you tell me where we’re going?”   
“No,” Hux said, “You’re just going have to trust me.”  
“Okay,” said Poe, burning his tongue on the coffee, “Do you want some?”  
“No, thank you.” Hux said, “I’ve got tea.”   
He took out another flask from the other pocket.   
“I’ve got water, too.” Hux said, “For later.”   
“My Dad gave me some lunch,” Poe said.   
“I like your Dad,” Hux said.   
“Are you using me for him, too?”  
“I hoped you wouldn’t figure that one out.”  
“I didn’t know you had a sense of humour,” said Poe.   
“I don’t, you’re projecting.” Hux said. 

Hux set off confidently, taking BB-8’s leash from Poe and taking long silent strides. Poe was shorter, but he decided that he wasn’t about to let Hux stream on ahead without him. They were supposed to be hiking together, and they would hike together.   
It hadn’t snowed at all down in the town, and Poe didn’t spend enough time admiring the nearby mountain trials to have noticed the snowy summits.  
“Wow,” he said, as the snow thickened.   
“There’s almost always a little snow up here,” Hux said, “Except around July or August, then it’s usually just peak.”   
“We’re not going to the top?”  
Hux shook his head.   
“It’s dangerous, this time of year.” Hux said, “No-one goes up there. The winds get really bad.”   
Poe wanted to protest, wanted to go up. There was something about being told that a thing was too dangerous that made him want to do it more, but he wasn’t about to risk getting BB-8 blown away like a kite.   
They stopped on a large ledge, fairly comfortable and not too steep. Hux sat on a rock, and Poe sat down beside him. He unclipped BB’s leash and told him to stay near.   
BB-8 started galloping about in the snow, showing off, taking mouthfuls of the fine white powder and throwing it in the air.   
“Food?” Poe said, digging in his own back-pack.   
It was an elaborate salad with spicy chicken strips and tortilla, which he and Hux picked at quietly. There was some unseasoned chicken put aside for BB-8, and Hux attempted to make BB-8 give him his paw in exchange for it.   
They hiked a little further, occasionally throwing snow balls for BB to chase, until, as predicted, the winds picked up and they couldn’t safely walk up any higher.   
The rested, briefly, before they began to start their descent.   
Poe’s hands were freezing - he felt bad about drinking all his coffee. He tried to warm them on BB-8’s fur, but he was more interested in rolling about in the snow than serving as a heater.   
Hux sat down next to him.   
“Are your hands cold?” Hux said.  
Poe shrugged. They were freezing.   
Hux took Poe’s bare hands in his gloved, and rubbed on them gently. He wasn’t meeting Poe’s eyes, just carried on warming them carefully.   
“Thanks,” said Poe.   
He moved closer still to Hux, their arms touching.   
Hux dropped his hands and placed his own neatly in his lap.  
“The weather seems nicer, when I’m with you,” Hux said, “Warmer. Even when it’s snowing.”   
There wasn’t much that could be said to that.   
“I like being around you,” Poe said, “Maybe that’s why.”   
“Maybe,” Hux said.   
He was looking at Poe now, light eyes intent.   
“Do you think I could kiss you?” Hux said.   
Poe was taken aback. He tried not to show it.   
“You could.”   
Smooth, as always.   
“I don’t have to, if you don’t want me to.”   
“No, no, I want you to.” Poe said, quickly.   
Hux smiled. He touched Poe’s cheek. He was still wearing the gloves.   
They were warm, soft, expensive leather.   
Poe liked the smell of leather, hated to think of dead cows.   
Fuck.   
What a way to ruin the moment.   
He let Hux pull him closer. It was a simple kiss, not as deep or romantic as Poe had wanted, as he had expected.   
“Have you ever kissed anyone?” Poe said, before he could stop himself.   
Hux jolted.   
“Was it that bad?”  
“No, it wasn’t bad.” Poe said, searching his mind for a justification.  
Hux bit his lip, a move that Poe thought was unHux-like.   
“I’ve never kissed anyone I liked,” Hux said, “We’ll leave it at that.”  
“You like me?”  
“Of course I do,” Hux said, “I’ve never chosen to spend this much time with anyone.”   
“I like you,” Poe said.   
“We can’t be together,” Hux said, “Not as more than friends. Not until I move out.”   
“I understand,” Poe said, “My Dad kind-of thinks we’re together though,”   
Hux nodded.  
“Yes, well, I don’t expect your Dad gossips with mine much.”   
“I hope not,” Poe said, “Can I kiss you now?”  
“I’d like that,” Hux said, “If you really want to show me how it’s done.” 

*

They arrived home, cold and tired. For the last mile they had taken in turns carrying a tuckered-out BB-8 home in their arms.   
It was getting dark as they made their way up to Poe’s front door.   
“Are you coming in?”   
“If your Dad doesn’t mind,”   
“Course he doesn’t,” Poe said, “You don’t have to be back?”  
“My Dad won’t be home until Tuesday.”   
“Oh,” said Poe, with a grin, “So you could have a sleepover?”   
“I could, if I were five years old.”  
“What? You don’t want to build a fort and watch R-rated movies and eat popcorn?”  
“You can build a fort, I will supervise.”   
“So, we are having a sleepover?”  
“Again, as long your Dad doesn’t have an objections,” Hux said, putting BB-8 down and stretching out his arms, “We wouldn’t have to carry him if he was in better shape.”   
“It’s just his breed,” Poe said.   
Hux’s eyes narrowed.   
“I looked online. They’re not supposed to spherical.” Hux said.   
“You’ll give my dog a complex if you carry on,” Poe said, dismissively.   
BB-8 barked.   
“See!” Poe said.   
They shed their snowy shoes and coats before they went inside.   
They spent a few minutes drying themselves and the dog with warm towels that had been left by the door.   
When they were dry and relatively warm, they followed BB-8’s nose into the kitchen, where Kes was fussing with gingerbread and other assorted cookies.   
“Do you want some?” Kes offered.  
“Please,” Poe said, sitting down. BB-8 yapped something similar.   
“No, thank you,” Hux said.  
He sat close to Poe, like he was nervous and had never been there before.   
“Cocoa?”   
Poe nodded, Hux shook his head.   
“I think we have chamomile tea,’ said Kes.   
“No, thank you. Could I have I some water, please?”   
Poe looked at him sideways. He hadn’t eaten much at all, as much as he insisted he simply had a small appetite.   
“Hux’s dad is away,” Poe said, “I was wondering if he could stay the night.”   
“It’s fine by me,” said Kes, “But you have school tomorrow, remember.”   
“I know, Dad.”   
“Thank you,” Hux said.   
“Does your dad go away often?”   
“Not that often,” said Hux, “Usually Maratelle, my stepmother stays, but she’s visiting her mother.”   
“So you’re alone?” Kes said, sounding concerned.   
“Dad,” Poe said, “He’s eighteen.”   
“Eighteen year olds can be lonely,” Kes said, “Right?”   
“I rarely get lonely, Mr Dameron,” said Hux, “But thank you for letting me stay.”  
“I tell you every time you come to call me Kes,”  
“He’s just being polite, Kes,” Poe said, “Do you want some dry clothes?”  
Hux nodded and they slipped out of the kitchen, leaving Kes to brew the hot water for cocoa.   
“Is this your mother?” Hux said, pointing at the photograph pinned on the notice board.   
Poe nodded and moved to stand behind Hux.   
“She looks kind,” Hux said, “She has the same eyes as you.”   
Poe felt warm. When people saw the photograph, they often said something like ‘she looks beautiful’ - which was true, but far from all that she was.   
“She was kind,” Poe said, “And passionate.”   
“I don’t remember my mother,” Hux said, “I don’t have photos.”   
“Oh,” Poe said, “I’m sorry.”   
Poe left Hux at the notice board to rifle through his chest of drawers, praying for the discovering of something that came close to resembling the neatness of Hux’s own clothes.  
“What was your mother’s name?” Hux said.   
“Shara,” Poe said, “I think you’ll be too tall for most of my clothes. But these might do.”  
A pair of black sweatpants, a plan white t-shirt.   
Poe got changed himself, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the floor, daring himself to look up, to meet Hux’s eyes, and chickening out.  
“Dameron,” said Hux, “Poe,”   
“What?”   
Hux stepped closer, touched his face. He was fully dressed now. His hair was uncharacteristically untidy.   
“You don’t have to pretend to be such a gentleman,” Hux said, “I went to boarding school, remember?”   
“It was full of boys watching each other undress?”  
“Pretty much,” Hux said, “That and Latin.”   
“Latin is for pretentious losers,” Poe said, “Did you like it?”   
“Latin or boys watching me dress?”   
“I don’t know,” Poe said, “Both?”  
“Depends on the guy,” said Hux, “And the story.”   
“So next time, you won’t mind if you watch you get dressed?”   
“I’d prefer you watch me undress.”  
Hux blushed a bit as he said it. Poe replied with a kiss, quick, promising.   
Hux pulled him back in for another, and Poe fell into it more comfortably this time, hand grasping at his t-shirt on Hux’s back.   
Hux pulled away again.   
“I didn’t mean now,” Hux said, “Your cocoa will be ready.”   
Poe sighed, and admitted to himself if they took a couple minutes longer it was likely that Kes would come knocking, not out of any real concern for the pair of them, but out of pride: Kes Dameron would not serve subpar, cold, cocoa.   
They trailed out of the room. By the time they’d sat back at the kitchen table, Hux’s blush had subsided and he looked cool and collected, like nothing had happened.   
Poe, for his part, couldn’t stop grinning.  
Hux let BB-8 jump on his lap and started tickling him under the chin.   
“Here,” Kes said, serving the cocoa and cookies, “I’m taking a shower.”  
Poe stirred the marshmallows and cream around his drink while Hux teased BB with his fingers.   
“Do you want one?” Poe said, pointing to plate of biscuits.  
Hux declined. Predictably.  
“You didn’t eat much earlier, either,” Poe said.   
Hux rolled his eyes.   
“Don’t you start,” Hux said, stern. He sipped on his water.   
“I’m just worried,” Poe said, he picked up a gingerbread dog.   
Hux reached over, snatched out of his hand and bit in half.  
“Don’t be,” He said.   
“I didn’t mean steal my food.”  
“Tastes better when it’s stolen.”   
Poe grinned at him, dipped his next cookie into his cocoa.   
“I hate eating in front of people,” Hux said, “It makes me nervous. Don’t ask why, Dameron. If I knew that then it wouldn’t matter so much, would it? I do therapy. I’m trying to get better. I don’t need you interfering, okay?”   
“Okay, Hux,” said Poe, “How long have you…”  
He couldn’t bring himself to ask though whole question, busied himself with drinking more cocoa.   
“A few years. It got bad in boarding school. I started…it sounds stupid. People used to say that I looked like my Dad, and I didn’t want to be like him. Not even look like him. The more weight I lost, the less they said it. Then it all just became a habit. I don’t have a phone. I don’t have a car. My dad calls the school regularly to check up on me. My therapist is an old friend of his. I’m not allowed on the internet without his permission. The only thing I could decide on is if I didn’t eat.”   
Poe couldn’t think of a proper response. He took Hux’s hand instead. He was surprised that Hux let him.   
“I’ve decided now,” Hux said, “That it’s my choice to get better too. Slowly. In a few months I can leave. I’ll barely see my father. When I graduate college and get a job, I’ll never see him again.”   
Poe squeezed Hux’s hand and grinned.   
“Sounds like a plan.”   
“I like it here,” Hux said, “No-one makes me do things I don’t want to do.”  
“I’ll never make you do anything,” said Poe.  
“Do you promise?”  
“Yeah,” said Poe, “I promise.”

*

Poe woke up in the middle of the night to cold sheets. They’d gone to bed late, after watching a couple of bad made-for-TV movies. His mouth was dry - maybe Hux had gotten up in search for a drink of water, too.  
“I know what I’m doing,” Hux’s voice - he thought, for a second, Hux might have used the ancient landline to call someone.   
“I’m sure you do, but - ” Poe’s Dad.  
“There’s no ‘but’,” Hux snapped, then, softly: “Sorry.”  
“Poe really likes you,” said Kes.   
Poe blushed in the shadows, thankful no-one was looking at him.“I like him, too,” Hux said, “That’s nothing to do with it. If you don’t want to pass on the information, then don’t. I thought it might be seen as a little more trustworthy. I’ve never met Kylo’s mother, not properly.”  
“I can do it, Armitage, but I’m sure your father will know it’s you.”  
“Yes, it’s likely he’ll figure it out,” said Hux, “He won’t do anything he wasn’t already planning to do, anyway.”  
Finally, tired of eavesdropping on the annoyingly cryptic conversation, Poe stepped out of the dark hallway and into the lightened kitchen.   
Hux and Kes both looked at him, eyes wide like naughty children up after midnight.   
“What are you two talking about?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has commented/left kudos so far! I really appreciate it, and sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I deleted and rewrote the same 1000 words like five times which is why it's a little shorter than I would have liked, too.   
> The title of this chapter means "bright, daring, joyful" which I stole from some family motto I think, but I think it suits the Damerons.


	4. corruptus in extremis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> extra warning here for mentions of rape, there is no detail but it is stated.

Hux ignored Poe’s pleas for an explanation.   
“It’s just something about my father,” Hux said, “It’s not important.”   
“It sounded important.”   
Hux shrugged and sighed.  
“I’m tired, Poe,” He said, “I’ll explain it to you soon.”   
They got back into Poe’s bed, side by side. Hux, by nature, wasn’t the sharing sort, but there was something about Poe’s broader, warmer body that comforted him.   
They fell into silence pretty quickly. Hux closed his eyes and hoped for sleep.  
“I just don’t understand why you can tell my Dad but not me,” Poe said, breaking the silence.   
“I needed his help.”   
“With what?”   
“Poe - it’s just. Complicated.”   
Poe huffed in the darkness and turned his back to Hux. He almost told him everything, then. Not just about what he’d been talking about with Kes Dameron, or about the things he was going to do, but every single thing in his life. The truth about his mother, about moving to America, about boarding school - there were so many lies, half-truths and secrets that Hux would barely know where to start or end.   
He didn’t think Poe would make fun of him, or even hate him, even including the very worst of he did, of what he knew, but he wouldn’t feel the same way about him.   
Poe was the first friend he had in years.   
Hux knew if he opened his mouth to talk, he’d start screaming and never stop.   
So he didn’t say anything, and soon Poe started to snoring and Hux watched the ceiling do nothing.   
When it started getting light, he pulled himself out of bed.   
“Where are you going?” Poe mumbled. He had lines on his face from the pillow, and looked like he’d been drooling.   
He still looked good.   
Hux ran his hands through his hair.  
“Home.”   
“Now?”   
“It’s nearly six-thirty,” Hux said, “I have to get my school stuff.”  
“If you wait, I can come with you.”   
“No, thank you.” Hux said.   
He changed out of Poe’s clothes and back into his freshly washed and dried ones.   
“Poe?” He said, approaching the bed again.   
His eyes were closed and he was breathing slowly. He didn’t stir.   
Hux ran home. It always helped clear his head, and he could do with the extra exercise.   
Anika was there when he got in, and gave him an evil sort of look.   
“If your father asks, I’m not going to lie.”   
“I’m not giving him a reason to ask,” said Hux, “Are you?”   
“Go have a shower,” Anika said, “You’re all sweaty and you stink.”   
“Pleasure to see you this morning, too,” Hux said, trailing up the stairs.   
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Anika sticks up her middle finger at him.   
It’s fair, really.   
He does have that shower, not particularly rushing but the prospect of being late playing in the back of his mind. It was math, first, and Sloane wasn’t likely to rat him out: she’d had a few run-ins with his father and hated him as much as Hux did.   
He’d had the sense to pack his school bag ready, though he wasted a few precious minutes staring at the sketch he’d stolen from Poe weeks ago.   
School went by pretty quickly. As usual, he kept himself to himself.   
He did not see Poe, and tried not to will him to appear as he was smoking under the bleachers.   
When he got home, the landline was ringing. He only just managed to beat Anika to it.   
He was half-expecting his father or Maratelle, checking in on him.   
“Armitage?” The voice said, “It’s Kes.”   
“Oh,” Hux said, “Right.”   
“Leia can see you tomorrow at four, is that okay?”   
“Yeah,” Hux said, “Yes. That’s great. Thank you.” 

*

“Why are you in my house?” Kylo said, he stood at the top of the stairs, frowning like he was looking at particularly difficult math problem.   
“I’m here to declare my undying love to you,” Hux said, “I just can’t keep it to myself any longer.”   
“You’re an asshole,” Kylo said, “Really?”   
“I have to speak to your mother,” Hux said, “She is in there bickering with your father.”   
Kylo snorted.   
“Bickering. Nothing new. When was she supposed to meet you?”   
“About seven minutes ago.”   
“But you’re not counting,” Kylo said. He thundered down the stairs, elephant-like.   
The house must have good foundations, to put up with that.  
“Do I strike you as the sort of person to get upset about lateness?”   
“Definitely,” Kylo said, “I’m surprised you haven’t stormed on out of here already.”  
“No, now that’s your bit.”   
“Why are you meeting her, anyway?” Kylo said.   
“It a college thing,” Hux said, “I’m looking for ways to make me look more well-rounded.”   
Kylo’s eyes narrowed, he pointed at Hux.   
“You’re lying,” he said, “I can tell.”  
“I’m not lying,” Hux lied, “Looks like your psychic powers need tuning.”   
Kylo was still watching Hux closely.   
The doorbell rang.   
“It’s Rey,” Kylo said, “Do you want me to get my mom?”  
“No, I can wait longer.”   
Kylo shrugged, and went to go answer the door. Hux turned away as Kylo and Rey ate each-others faces.   
“Hux,” said Rey, brightly, when she had amputated Kylo from herself, “I was looking for you all day.”   
Hux looked at Kylo, who shrugged, arm around Rey protectively.   
“Well, you’ve found me.” Hux said.   
“I didn’t know you two were friends,” Rey said, smiling to each of them.  
“We’re not friends,” said Hux and Kylo together.   
Rey laughed.   
“Can we go upstairs?” Kylo said.   
“No, I need to talk to Hux.”   
Kylo pouted. Hux rolled his eyes.   
“I’m gonna go get a snack,” Kylo said, he nodded towards Hux, “Be nice.”   
The kitchen door swung shut after him, Rey turned back to Hux after watching Kylo leave.  
“It’s Poe’s birthday this weekend,” Rey said, “And since you two are close - ”  
“We’re not that close,” Hux said.   
If they were close, he’d already know it was Poe’s birthday on the weekend.   
Rey rose a disbelieving eyebrow.   
“Well, you’re friends now, right? I mean, I’ve assumed the feeling is mutual since Poe does go on about you a bit.”   
“I suppose,” Hux said, “Poe is my friend.”   
It still sounded like a silly, insignificant word to Hux, but it meant the world, and he was almost afraid to say it out loud.  
“Yeah,” Rey said, “I know. So we’re - me and Rose and Finn - are having a little get-together. A surprise-party. His Dad has agreed. I mean, it’s not going to be big or anything. We’re just gonna watch a few movies, eat. Jump out from behind furniture and throw confetti. Do you want to come?”  
Hux searched for a polite way to say ‘no, not on your life’.   
“I know it’s not your thing,” said Rey, “But I also know that Poe would really want you there.”  
“Okay,” said Hux, “I’ll come.”   
His mouth had spoken without permission from his brain, but Rey’s eyes lit up and she looked happy with her successes.   
And Poe would probably like him to be there, if he had forgiven for him for that morning.   
“Great! Saturday night, around six-thirty, Kes will bring him home around seven. Don’t tell him.”   
“Yes, I know what a surprise is,” Hux said, half under his breath.   
Rey pretended not to hear.   
“Kylo will be there,” Rey said, “So at least you’ll have two friends.”   
“Not his friend,” Hux said.   
“Then get out of my house!” Kylo shouted through the kitchen door, “Can we go upstairs now?”   
“Better go,” Rey said, cheerfully, and left Hux in the hallway, waiting for Leia. 

Leia Organa was an intimidating woman, despite being approximately a foot shorter than Hux.   
She was, politically speaking, the exact opposite of his father, but no less fierce.   
“Kes Dameron said you’d be coming,” said Leia, “I’m sorry I’ve kept you waiting.”   
“It’s quite alright,” said Hux, “Thank you for seeing me.”   
“Sit down, Armitage.” Leia gestured politely, “I have to say, Brendol Hux’s son is the last person I expected to see in my office.”   
“I’m sure you’ve figured out that it’s about him,” Hux said, “There’s an election coming up.”   
Leia tapped on a stack of flyers baring her name.   
“I’m aware.”   
“You’re not going to win,” Hux said, “Not right now. People don’t see you as a politician. Not an electable one. They see you as an activist, a trouble-maker - ”  
“Is there point to this, or are you just coming here to parrot your father’s arguments at me?”  
Hux hesitated.   
“Like I said,” Hux said, “Right now people don’t see you as viable competition because my father and his friends have held the majority for decades. People in this town think democrats are radicals, and you are something else entirely. But they do like you. The only way you can win is if my father becomes the less viable option.”   
“What, exactly, are you getting at?”   
“I have information, you have contacts.” Hux said.   
“Information, I suppose, that will ruin your father’s career?”   
“Yes. We - your friend at the paper - can leak it a couple of minutes before the next town meeting.”   
“Ruining your father’s career doesn’t guarantee me a win, it only guarantees that he will lose.”   
“If you’re a good a person as your fans say you are, then you will want this information out, regardless of the circumstances.”   
“And is that why you’re sharing? Because you’re a good person?”  
“No,” Hux said, “I want it leaked because I want him to know that I know everything about him, and if I wanted, I can destroy more than his career.”   
“What is this information?”   
Hux pulled the black USB stick out of the inside pocket of his coat and slid it across the table.   
“See for yourself.” 

*  
Hux had been plotting against his father for years. Mostly, they had been childish fantasies of revenge, or, more embarrassingly, being adopted by a nicer family.   
There were things Hux had known for years that might affect his career negatively - slapping Hux around was the beginning of it, but it wouldn’t destroy him in the way he wanted. He wanted his father devastated.   
Thanks to a drunken Maratelle, he knew that Brendol’s relationship with his mother was not consensual. (If you hadn’t gone after that girl, then we wouldn’t be in this mess, we wouldn’t have that kid around, if you could just take no for no and keep it in your damn pants).   
He knew these things would garner criticism from local news, a flurry of media attention, but the stranglehold the party had on the town wouldn’t loosen. The older residents in particular would deny the rape, think kids these days need a bit of discipline.   
It was all hearsay, anyway.   
It had to be undeniable.   
Then one day, about six months go, Brendol lost his keys, which include the keys to both his home office and work office, and Armitage found them.   
Keeping them for any length of time would be asking to get caught, so he dug out the money he kept aside for cigarettes and went and got copies made immediately.   
When they were ready, he threw the original set down by where Brendol usually parked his car and hid his copies in the false bottom of his desk.   
Next time Brendol and Maratelle were out for a gala that would last all night, Hux got to work in the home office. Getting into Brendol’s accounts were easy - he kept a list of all his user-names, passwords and top-secret answers in a notebook in the top draw of his desk (granted, it was locked, but Hux had the key to that, too). 

He’d never heard of the Arkanis Rehabilitation Centre for Troubled Youths. It sounded like something his father would come up with. He searched in an incognito tab, and it came quickly clear what it was: boot camp, reform school, penal institute, behavioural modification facility, it had a lot of synonyms, but there was real way of putting it: child prison.   
It took troubled youths, the mentally ill, the drug-addicted, the trouble-makers and turned them into upstanding young citizens through discipline and hard-work and team-building, and whole load of other bullshit.   
The name Brendol Hux didn’t appear anywhere on the website, not on staff or board of trustees, but he had to have something to do with it. A name caught his eye, Holden Smith, a name that had been CC’d into many of the emails, stated as one of the founders, no file photo available.   
Hux turned back to the notebook, and there was Holden Smith’s email address and password.   
Hux logged in on yet enough tab. He was getting nervous about the time, now, and so pulled out silver memory stick and downloaded all of the ‘Holden’ emails onto it.   
He spent time carefully clearing any clue of his presence from the room, made himself a cup of tea, and going through the emails on his own laptop.   
Hux had thought his own time at boarding school was punishment enough - but the Holden emails made Arkanis to be a grim place. Attempted and completed suicides, accidental deaths, physical and sexual violence by staff towards pupils. And his father was hiding it all, agreeing to pay-offs and off-the-record settlements.   
It was the sort of devastating information that Armitage had been waiting for, but it couldn’t be the first strike.   
It wasn’t the information he was going to share with Organa, at least not yet.   
This was simpler: from his father’s work office he picked up checks, bank records, and emails confirming bribery and meddling, as well as older stuff from when he had worked as a lawyer that suggested witness tampering. He put this on a black memory stick, and waited until the time was right share. 

*

He got home from the Organa-Solo residence late, but not late enough for be missed. Maratelle was home, sat in the sitting room with a glass of wine.   
She was in charge of Hux’s back account, his father didn’t usually bother him with that. He put money in there monthly, but Hux would have to ask permission for each use or withdrawal.   
If Maratelle said no, which she was wont to do, he’d simply take the money from her. He’d done so in the past. People who denied almost everything they ask for become used to simply taking what they need, and Hux wasn’t above stealing.   
Still, the consequences of asking politely were likely to me less severe than thieving.   
“It’s Poe’s birthday this weekend,” said Hux, “I was wondering if you would withdraw money from my account so I could get him a present.”  
“The boy you tutor?” Maratelle said.   
Her beautician had over-plucked those eyebrows, again.   
“Yes,” Hux said, “His friends are throwing him a surprise party and they invited me.”   
“A party?”   
Eyebrows raised higher. Hux didn’t know they could go that far.   
“Yes,” Hux said, burying his annoyance with a yawn, “It’s at his Dad’s house, and he’ll be there.”   
“I never thought I’d see you go to a party,” Maratelle said, “I never thought I’d see you get invited to a party.”  
Hux smiled tightly.   
“How much do you want?”   
Hux shrugged.   
“Hundred dollars?”   
He could load up on cigarettes, too.   
“For a birthday present?”   
“Fifty?” Hux said.   
“I’m going to the bank tomorrow, anyway,” Maratelle said, “So we’ll see.” 

**

“Hi,” said Hux.  
He’d been waiting outside Poe’s class before lunch for the last ten minutes, rehearsing in his head what he was going to say to him. They hadn’t spoken at all yesterday, after Hux had left in a hurry.   
It was unusually, in practice, but something felt off in Hux’s chest and he needed to fix it.   
“How do you always finish classes before me?”   
“I just ask to leave early,” Hux said.   
“And they let you?”   
Hux shrugged.   
“I’m sorry,” Hux said.  
“About?”   
“Monday morning. Well. About not telling you - I mean, I still can’t tell you, not yet. But I’m sorry that I can’t.”   
“It’s okay, Hux,” Poe said, “I was hurt but I’m not mad or anything.”   
Hux smiled, relaxed.   
“Are you coming to the cafeteria?” Poe said.   
“I’m not hungry,” Hux said, automatically. It’s funny, how quickly lies can become habit.   
“No, of course not,” Poe said, disappointedly.   
“But, if you’ll have me, I’d like to sit with you. If it’s okay with your friends.”   
Poe’s face broke into a smile, like sunshines through clouds.   
“Of course we’ll have you!” Poe said, “You know, I thought you were mad at me.”   
“Why would I be angry with you?”   
“Don’t know,” Poe said, “Well, Dad says he can hear me snore through the walls sometimes.”   
“It’ll take more than that to scare me away,” said Hux, “I just had a few things to do.”  
“Secret things, Hugs?”   
“I can tell you everything next Tuesday.”   
“Intriguing.”   
Hux regretted asking to go with Poe the moment they entered the cafeteria. The smell alone was enough to remind him why he never ate at school.   
He attached himself closely to Poe, distracting himself at least with his solidly built shoulders, admiring the way his hair curls around his ears.   
He sat between Poe and Rey, who smiled at him warmly. Kylo was watching him with his dark, suspicious eyes.   
They stopped whatever conversation they had been having with Rose and Finn.   
“So,” Rose said, “What are your intentions with our son?”   
Finn and Rey laughed. Poe ducked his head, concentrating on his food. It looked appetising, which meant that Kes had made it, and it wasn’t a cafeteria special.   
Had Poe told them that it was all more than just tutoring?  
“I don’t - ”   
“She’s teasing,” said Poe, quietly.   
“I know.” Hux said.   
“Why weren’t you in physics?” Finn said.   
Hux had forgotten that Finn was in physics with him. Most of the same classes, really.   
Hux shrugged.   
“Why weren’t you in physics, Hux?” Poe said.   
“Sorry, man,” Finn said, “Busted you.”   
“I had headache,” Hux said, “I spent the hour in the nurses office.”   
Poe didn’t believe him, had the audacity to look hurt.   
Hux hated it when Poe looked hurt, like he had when he’d refused to tell him what he and Kes were talking about.   
“Did you look at that history assignment, Kylo? Ten pages over spring break, he’s crazy…” Rey said, and they all started discussing that.   
“I’m gonna go smoke,” said Hux said, quietly in Poe’s ear.   
He felt Poe start to follow him as soon as he got outside.   
“Why didn’t you go to your class?” Poe said.   
“Poe, I - “”  
“Let me guess this one,” Poe said, “You can’t tell me right now?”   
He said the less part in a mocking but fair imitation of an English accent.   
“I didn’t go because I don’t need to go,” Hux said, “I applied for a January entry to a programme in England. And I got accepted. In September I’ll go on to Cambridge University. I don’t need to be in school at all, I just don’t want to stay at home.”   
“When did you find out?”   
“A few days ago,” Hux said.   
“Why didn’t you tell me?”   
“Because I wanted to pretend for a bit that we could be friends.” Hux said.   
He felt the ugly sort of tears that only came with the truth fill his eyes. The sort of pathetic truth he didn’t want to tell.   
“Why wouldn’t we stay friends?” Poe said.   
Hux started to walk away again, shaking hands, pulling out a cigarette before he’d even gotten to the privacy of the bleachers.   
“Because I’ll go away and you’ll stay here and you’ll move on and forget me. You have your friends, you don’t need me.” Hux said.   
“I’m not going to forget you,” Poe said, “And I plan on making damn sure you never forget me. I’m going to email you, and write to you, I’ll send a carrier pigeon if I have to.”   
Hux nodded. Poe made it all so easy to believe in.   
But it wasn’t all of it, it wasn’t time for that yet.   
There was still a chance that Poe could change his mind. 

*

Hux had never been in an art shop in his life. He’d been putting it off since Rey had invited him to the party. Until Saturday morning, which was just about the worst time to go shopping.   
He was greeted, the second he entered the door, by someone who looked exactly like they worked in an art shop. Piercings, incredibly intricate tattoo, denim overalls with what looked like hand-painted flowers decorating them.   
“Hi, I’m Astrid,” she said, perkily, “How can I help you today?”   
“Just looking for a birthday present,” Hux said.   
“Great!” Art-girl said, “What medium does they prefer?”   
Hux shook his head.  
“Pastels? Charcoal?”   
“I don’t know,” Hux said. He barely knew the difference.   
“Paints?”  
“Maybe,” Hux said, “Uh, pens?”  
“Ink pens?”   
“Are there other pens?”   
Shop-girl gave him a very teacher-like look that said, are you insolent or downright stupid?  
“He mostly doodles,” Hux says, “Or sketches. Cartoons, maybe? I don’t think he takes it too seriously but he’s really good.”   
“Right, okay, that’s not super-helpful.”  
“Will you just tell me what art-people like and I’ll buy it?” Hux said.   
“Sure!” she said, customer-service smile back in place.   
She handed him a sketchbook that contained ‘seriously the best quality paper your friend will use, ever’ and some brush-pens, and a selection of fineliners. 

  
*

Hux lost count of the times he considered not going to the party. He didn’t want to go, really.   
Rey seemed nice, and he was sure if Poe liked Rose and Finn then they were good people. But.   
That was problem. They were nice people, they were good.   
Well, Kylo was Kylo.   
They threw surprise parties and had Halloween-Horror-Fests, they did extra-curricular activities because they enjoyed them, not because they had to.   
They were friends, they were nice to everyone. Hux was pretty incapable of being nice to anyone for more than a few seconds, and Poe was bound to realise that the more people were around.   
They didn’t scheme to destroy their father’s career. When he heard people talking about them, it was usually positive, something kind they had done (again, Kylo was Kylo).   
When Hux had heard rumours about himself…well, usually it was about how rude he was, how arrogant and stuck up and worst of all, it was true.   
And, most of all, Hux was positive, that none of them had done the worst.   
The last thing that he’d tell Poe about on Tuesday.   
The truth that Hux won’t even let himself think. 

If he only has until Tuesday with Poe, then he might as well spend all the time he had with him.   
As he leaves, he overhears Brendol and Maratelle discussing where he is going.   
“A party? He’s probably lying,”   
And it’s funny, because, for once, it’s the truth. 

Rey, Hux assumes, must’ve told them all that he was coming and to pretend that it wasn’t awkward.   
Rose sets him to pinning up a couple of banners, and Finn pretends not to laugh when he finds he lacks the lung capacity to blow up a balloon (it probably had nothing to do with the cigarette habit).   
“So,” Rose said, when they were waiting in the dark for Kes to bring Poe home, “Are you two dating?”  
“We’re not dating,” Hux said.   
“But he likes you,” Rose said, “And you like him,”   
“Yes.”   
Rose smiled.   
“You’re dating.” 

Poe seems keen to confirm after they’ve all surprised him and he kisses Hux. It’s just on the cheek, but Rose folds her arms triumphantly.   
“I didn’t think you’d come,” Poe said, quietly, when they are getting his favourite movie set up, some horror-sci-fi that Hux has never heard of.   
“You knew what they were planning?”  
“They’re terrible at secrets,” Poe said, “And so is my Dad…oh no, we can’t head home just yet, Poe, there’s uh, we have to go to the grocery store first.”   
“Right,” Hux said, “Well, I had nothing to do with any of this. Except that banner over there, that was me.”  
“The crooked one?”   
“It’s perfectly straight, Dameron.”   
The others plan on having a sleepover in the sitting room, but Hux’s father’s grace doesn’t extend that far, and so he says goodbye to Kes, BB-8 and the others after the first movie.  
Poe walks him to the door, and they fall out into the night together.   
“Thank you for coming,” Poe said, “I know it’s not your thing.”  
“It’s your thing,” Hux said, “For your birthday. Of course I came. I have a present for you -”  
“You didn’t have to…”  
“Well, I did.”   
Despite his weak protestations, Poe opens it like he’s more eight than eighteen.  
“How did you know I draw?”  
“You’re always drawing when I’m trying to talk to you,” said Hux, “And I’m sure you’ve mentioned it.”   
“Thank you,” Poe said, “Though I kind of wanted something else of you?”   
“What?”  
Poe tugged at his collar and pulled him down so that lips met, and they kissed for seconds that felt like hours that felt too short.   
“That.” Poe said.   
“Well, I’m glad you got what you wanted, then.” 

Hux spent Sunday, Monday and Tuesday morning feeling sick. Waiting for the bomb to drop, though he knew it wouldn’t happen until six pm.   
And he had no way of knowing whether or not it happened. Just because Leia had told him she would pass on the information to her journalist contact, didn’t mean she would. And just because this journalist had the information, didn’t mean she would publish it, or that other people would see it, or even that it would have any kind of long-term effect (Still, it could function as a warning shot, even if nothing else went to plan).   
He waited in his bedroom. Bag packed. He wasn’t particularly attached to many of his clothes, except his coat, so they didn’t take up much space. His tablet and laptop were ready to go, and his favourite books - though he hated to leave any of them. He’d collected them so carefully.   
Still, he could easily by new copies.   
Poe’s drawing of BB-8, which he moved to his pocket. Some notebooks, though he didn’t like to keep anything too important written down where anyone could read it.   
He paced his room, like a big cat in a small cage, waiting.   
He knew it had worked when the front door slammed closed.   
Brendol swearing, screaming. Maratelle screeching, trying to calm him down.   
He managed to repress his glee, just a little bit, and waited a few more minutes, until he heard Maratelle give up and go to her bedroom.   
Hux picked up his bag and took it downstairs. He quietly put his shoes on ready, his coat hanging by the door, ready to flee.   
He didn’t bother to knock on the door to his father’s study, something, even a few weeks ago, he would never dream of forgetting.   
“It was you,” Brendol said, straight away.   
Hux had planned for more build up, but he supposed he was the most obvious culprit.   
Hux stepped closer into the room, fixing and self-satisfied and practiced smile onto his face.   
“Yes,” Hux said, “But trust me, father, I could have done a lot worse.”  
“Bastard,” Brendol said, and Hux couldn’t suppress the hysterical little giggle that escaped him.   
“I still can, Brendol,” he said, “Don’t forget that. You think your career is over now, but this is just the beginning.”  
Brendol lunged for him, but, drunk, failed to reach him.   
“I wouldn’t,” Hux said, “If I were you. If anything happens to me then someone else will share my information.”   
“What will make you stop,” Brendol said, “What do you want?”  
“Mostly I want you to kill yourself but I don’t think you’re capable of it,” Hux said, “So I’ll settle for some money. Call it an early inheritance.”   
“How much?”   
“Half. Of everything,” Hux said, “And the house in London.”   
“You’re not having half,”  
“Then you’re not having a moment of peace, ever again. Corruption. Rape. Child abuse. Funding child prisons - and I know what goes on there, a lot more than just a bit of drunken slapping-around. It’s institutional, and you signed off on it all.”  
“It’s a rehabilitation centre,” Brendol said, “Discipline is for their own good.”   
“It’s torture,” said Hux, “And I can keep that part to myself, if you give me what I want and close it down.”   
“I can’t just close it down,”   
“That part isn’t my problem,” Hux said, he handed an envelope over to his father, “I’m leaving now. Those are my new bank details. I’ll give you three days to get everything sorted for me.” 

A few hours later, he found himself knocking on the Dameron’s front door. He’d wandered around a bit, not keen on the idea of begging his way into anyone’s home, but it was raining, and he was cold, and he didn’t have money yet.   
Poe answered, wearing pyjamas, initially looking annoyed and tired, but that look quickly turned to concern.   
“I need somewhere to stay the night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for kind comments and kudos, and thanks for reading.  
> Title of this chapter means 'corrupt in the extreme' and it is the motto of the mayors office in the Simpsons.


	5. carpe noctem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added 'homophobia' tag, it's very brief mention but it's there.

He wasn’t expecting Hux, but when someone started pounding on the door so late at night, he didn’t really consider it might be anyone else. 

It was only after he’d ushered in a soaking wet Hux that he thought, well, I’m glad it wasn’t a serial killer. 

In every horror movie, if you answered the door after dark, you were almost definitely going to get murdered. 

“Are you okay?” He’d said, sleepily. 

“What?” Hux said, sounding vague. “Sorry, yes I’m fine,” 

Kes lurked in the hallway, hair ruffled with sleep and eyes full of concern. 

“Did everything go okay, Armitage?” Kes said. 

“Hm,” Hux said, shivering, “Yes, I think so.” 

“Are you two going to tell me the whole story now?” Poe said. 

“Let him shower and get warmed up first, Poe,” said Kes, “Do you want some tea?” 

Hux nodded and let Poe drag him towards the bathroom. 

“You moving in?” Poe said, pointing at the bag he was carrying. 

“No,” said Hux, “Not…not really. Can I stay tonight?” 

“Of course,” said Poe, “You can stay however long you want. Dad won’t mind. Well, not much, probably.” 

Hux nodded again and started to strip out of his clothes. 

“Did he hurt you? Your Dad?” 

Hux looked down at his bruised torso and snorted. 

“No, not lately,” he said, “Just boxing, I should think.” 

“You think?” Poe said, “Hux…Armitage. What’s wrong with you?” 

“I just feel a little hazy, that’s all,” Hux said, “Hazy and cold.” 

“Right,” Poe said, taking a towel from his wardrobe, “It’s clean.” 

Poe padded back into the kitchen where Kes was making tea for Hux, coffee for himself and cocoa for Poe. 

“You know what’s going on, don’t you?” 

“Yeah,” Kes said, “But I’m not telling you. It’s his business.” 

“Did you know he was coming tonight?” 

“I had an idea that he might,” Kes said, “I didn’t think he’d have anywhere else to go.”

“Why - ”

“Again, Poe. It’s Hux’s business to tell you.” 

Poe Dameron wasn’t exactly known for his patience. He sat at the kitchen table in silence with his Dad, drumming his fingers on the table or absent-mindedly scratching BB-8’s back. 

Hux appeared after nearly half an hour, hair damp, wearing grey pyjama bottoms with a green sweater that made his eyes look wonderful. 

Poe couldn’t help but smile stupidly when he saw him. 

“So,” said Poe. 

Hux sat down next to him. 

“Have you told him anything?” Hux said to Kes.

Kes held up his hands. 

“Not a word,” Kes promised. 

“It’s been really annoying.” 

“Have you seen the news this evening?” 

“I’m not really the news kind of guy,” Poe admitted.

“Right,” said Hux, “Well, my father is to be taken in for questioning regarding some rather damning allegations. Corruption. Harassment. Cheating, extortion…well, a whole load of things. And I was the one who leaked the evidence to the press.” 

“Oh,” said Poe, “I can see why he might not want you around.” 

“Quite,” said Hux, “I couldn’t tell you because it had to come out publicly. If just a few people more than strictly necessary heard...Well, we’d lose the element of surprise. I couldn’t go to the police because he was bribing the chief.”

“So you went to my Dad?” Poe said, with a proud-sort of grin to Kes. 

“He knows people,” said Hux, “Leia Organa, for example. She helped me find a good journalist who would report things accurately. Someone who could stir up the masses. It’s the only way to make sure someone is held accountable.” 

“And he’s being held accountable?” 

“I should hope so,” Hux said, “Or I’ll have to go with plan B…and I already swore I wouldn’t stoop that far.” 

“What’s plan B?” Kes said, serious suddenly. 

Hux bit his lip. 

“I had a little more information than I let on,” Hux said, “Some cover-ups at a school - well, it’s more of a private bootcamp for teenagers - that he’s on the board of. I needed to keep that quiet, to use as leverage.” 

“Leverage for what?” Poe said.

Hux went bright pink. 

“I may have blackmailed him, a little bit,” Hux said, looking between Poe and Kes, “Just so I’d never have to ask him for anything again.” 

Kes blinked at him slowly. 

“You didn’t tell me that part,” he said. 

“I’m sorry,” Hux said, “I didn’t think you’d approve. I understand if it means you don’t want me here.” 

“No, no,” said Kes, “I’m honestly just a little shocked.” 

They all fell into silence. Hux hadn’t made eye-contact with Poe in a while, he just sat, blinking wide-eyed at the floor. 

Poe felt like he needed to break the tension. 

“Are you coming to school tomorrow?” 

“No,” said Hux, “But I don’t have to stay here.”

He looked at Kes nervously as he spoke. 

“You can stay,” Kes said, “BB would like the company. I usually come home to make calls and answer emails for a couple of hours around lunch, then I head out again.” 

“Thank you,” Hux said, quietly. He put his hands around his tea and shivered again. 

Poe reached out squeezed his knee. 

“Can we go to bed?” Hux said, “Thank you for the tea, but I’m really tired. I was too anxious to sleep yesterday.”

“Of course,” said Kes, “Get some sleep.”

So Poe and Hux left Kes and BB-8 in the kitchen and drifted into the bedroom. 

Poe closed the door, hoping to steal a few kisses before Hux really did fall asleep. 

“I have,” said Hux, “One more thing I need to tell you.” 

“What is it?” 

Hux hesitated.

“It’s bad,” 

“It can’t be that bad,” said Poe, 

“I killed someone,” said Hux. 

“That’s not true,” said Poe, instinctively. 

“It was a fight,” said Hux, “I didn’t mean to. I just…” 

Hux looked down at his fists.

“My roommate, my last year at boarding school. He…we were friends at first. More than friends. Neither of us were out, it was really asking to get beat up there, and the teachers would just let it happen. We weren’t friends outside our room, I didn’t really have friends even then. He was popular,” said Hux, he was fiercely attempting to blink away tears, “He was a lot like you, actually, I suppose it’s why I didn’t like you at first. We were…messing around on his bed when one of his friends came in. We were usually so careful. But I hadn’t locked the door. Maybe I wanted someone to catch us, subconsciously? I think about it all the time, how stupid I was, and I try to push it out of my mind but it always creeps back in. He pushed me away - I don’t know why I thought he would be any different - and he punched me. He said that I _attacked_ him, that I was…and so I punched him back. He me again, and so I hit him, again and again and again. His friend was trying to pull me off but I wouldn’t stop hitting him. Even when he stopped fighting back. I didn’t know what I’d done. He was still alive when they took him away in the ambulance. My father dragged me out of school as soon as they were called. He paid the boy who’d seen it all parents for him to say that he’d fallen and hit his head. He died in hospital, a couple of days after it happened.” 

Poe stood up. A few tears escaped Hux’s eyes, his fingers twisted in the bedsheets. 

“Hux,” Poe said, “Armitage?” 

“I know I should have told you sooner,” Hux said, “Before I let you think you could like me.” 

“I do like you,” Poe said, “Still. I mean…I can’t…I don’t know, Armitage.”

“Do you think,” said Hux, “That you can ever forgive me?” 

“It’s not my place to forgive you,” said Poe, resolutely. 

“I wouldn’t do it again,” said Hux, “Not now. Not ever. I don’t know why I did it, Poe, I swear I didn’t want him dead. I just wanted him to stop talking.” 

“I know,” said Poe, “I know you didn’t want that.” 

“ _Can_ I be forgiven?” Hux said, “By anyone?”

“His parents?” 

“I don’t know if they know it was me,” said Hux, “They might suspect it. It wasn’t a very believable story.” 

“Maybe you should try to contact them,” Poe said, “Tell them the truth.” 

“What if they press charges?” Hux said. 

“You were a kid, right? And it was an accident.” 

“They might not see it like that,” Hux said, “Especially since I lied.” 

“I don’t know, Hux,” said Poe, “I really don’t know what to say to you.” 

“Do you hate me?” 

“No,” said Poe, “But I get that they might.” 

“I hate myself,” said Hux, “For doing that. For losing control like that. For letting that stupid kid get to me - for letting myself think that Jasper and I were really friends.” 

“It was a fight that went wrong,” said Poe, “It could happen to anyone, I mean, Ben’s knocked a few people out by accident a few times right? And once I hit a baseball right into someone’s head, complete accident, I mean, but he had to have like ten stitches and there was blood everywhere. We were fine and stuff, we stayed friends, but I could’ve killed it him. I guess it was my fault but it doesn’t make me a bad person.” 

“Oh, Poe,” said Hux, “You think too well of me. I _did_ mean to hit him. Not kill him, granted, but…I should have stopped when he was begging me to. When the other kid was trying to pull me off. But I didn’t.” 

“And that was a bad thing you did,” Poe said, “We’re not just the bad things we do, we’re the good things, too.” 

“I haven’t done many good things,” Hux said, “ _Any_ good things.” 

“Releasing that stuff about your Dad was a good thing,” said Poe. 

“For the wrong reasons,” said Hux. 

He wiped his face with the back of the hand, which seemed very unlike him. Hux was usually so proper and neat, doing something childish and kind of gross like that made Poe want to laugh. 

He suppressed the urge, biting the chuckle back with a tight-toothed smile. 

“It can be the start of a lot of good things,” Poe said, “I think almost anybody deserves a second chance.” 




Poe hadn’t slept at all well the night Hux first came in from the rain. He couldn’t stop thinking of all the things that Hux told him. 

But after a week, they seemed to relax into a routine. 

Mornings were all pretty similar. Hux would get up earlier than Poe to go jogging, wake him up after he’d have a shower, sometimes by gently shaking him and whispering his name, other times by flicking water over him (once, an entire glass). 

Poe would have his own shower and then they’d eat breakfast together, like a proper couple would. 

Then Hux would take his various medications. 

“What are they, exactly?” Poe had asked, one day. 

He’d always considered himself a pretty brave guy but he’d never quite had the guts to ask Hux the question. 

Personal questions like that made Hux close right up. 

Hux swallowed the pills without water. 

“Anti-depressants. Anti-anxiety. Mood-stabilisers,” Hux said, “One really is for migraines. I’m not sure I need all of them anymore, but it’s best to only taper down with proper medical supervision and I don’t think there are any psychiatrists I can trust around here. Do you think I’m crazy?” 

“No,” said Poe, too quickly, “Well, not in a bad way.” 

Hux snorted. 

“You’re very kind to me, Poe,” he said, and kissed him on the cheek.

Poe would go to school. 

He wasn’t sure what Hux would do all day, he never shared much, but he’d come home and find Kes and Hux in the kitchen, chatting quietly and cooking together. 

Hux, apparently, was preternaturally talented a chopping things, which Poe found highly believable, even if he couldn’t put his finger on why.

Hux had confessed to Poe that his father had come through with his money, and that he'd signed over the deed to the London house to Hux. 

"What're you going to do with it all?" Poe had said, feeling more than a little awkward that he had to ask.

"Spend it on school," said Hux, "I'd burn the house down, if I didn't have neighbours to worry about." 

Poe did not ask him to elaborate. 

There were a few topics off limits. Hux going off to school in January. Hux’s family. And what Poe had come to think of as the Boarding School Incident.

Until Hux brought it up again. 

“I was thinking,” Hux had said, “That maybe we should go see Jasper’s parents.” 

“Uh,” Poe said, taken aback, “Are you sure?” 

“Not to confess,” Hux said, “I…I don’t think I’m ready for that. But to see how they are. Apologise that I couldn’t help him.” 

“That seems…” Poe searched for the words, he wanted to be tactful and truthful, “Almost like a compromise.” 

“Do you think it’s the right thing to do?” 

There was the balance of being tactful and truthful again. The truly honest answer was _no,_ the right thing to do would be to confess everything. But that wouldn’t be the smart thing to do. 

"It's a start," Poe said, very carefully, "Just, it might be awkward."

"It absolutely will be," said Hux, "I think I have to do it." 

*

The journey was a fairly long one, and would be longer still if Kes hadn't agreed to loan his old car to Poe. They didn't exactly explain to him why they needed it, but Kes didn't ask too many questions. 

Hux had changed his mind a dozen times in the lead up to their trip, so much so that Poe had actually started getting angry at him. 

It had, after all, been Hux's idea (and a sick part of him wished Hux had never told him about any of it at all). 

He did start to feel bad for Hux in the car. He seemed to get paler and paler, quieter and quieter the closer they got. 

There wasn't even a guarantee that, even after driving two hundred miles, that Jasper's family would even still be living at the address Hux claimed to remember seeing on an envelope. Poe kind of hoped they didn't. 

And he was worried Hux going to throw up in his Dad's car. He really didn't want to have to clean that up. 

They couldn't get any parking close to the house itself, so they had to park almost a block away. The wind was biting, too. 

At least it wasn't raining. 

Hux was walking with confidence, and he approached the grand blue doors with a certain pomp, but Poe knew his tells by now. His hands were shaking as he rang the bell. 

Poe didn’t think it was possible for Hux to get any paler, but he did. He looked like a ghost, practically translucent if it wasn’t for his vivid hair. 

The person who had answered the door was about their age, tall and blond and broad, he frowned at Poe, and, when he saw Hux, he visibly startled. 

“Hux?” He said. 

“Jasper,” he said, “You’re supposed to be dead.”

Jasper narrowed his eyes. 

“What’re you doing here?” He said, “And who this?” 

“I’m Poe Dam - ”

“He’s none of your business,” said Hux, “I was told that you died.”

“Disappointed, huh? Jesus, why the fuck are you here?” 

“Misplaced guilt,” said Hux, “Obviously you’re doing well.” 

“Better than you, huh? You look like shit,” Jasper said, “What’s that saying? Corpse warmed up?” 

“Fuck you,” said Hux, “I wish I hit you harder.” 

“ _Hux_ ,” Poe said, pulling at his sleeve. 

“There always something wrong with you,” Jasper said, and then turned his attention to Poe, “He’s a fucking psycho. I mean it. You should be careful around him, I don’t know what it is. There’s a screw loose or a bit of soul missing or something. He might act like he likes you, but he’s _fucking empty._ ” 

Hux lunged forwards out of Poe’s grip to hit him, but Poe pulled him back again, even if he wanted to punch the smug-faced asshole himself. 

“You’re full of shit,” Poe said. 

Jasper laughed. Hux pulled himself free of Poe again and began to stalk off. 

“Yeah? Well say that again when you upset him and up in hospital. They thought the damage would be permanent. I had to have half a dozen surgeries ‘cause of him. They wired my jaw.” 

Poe lowered his voice, though he was sure Hux was well out of earshot. 

“What happened that night?” 

“What did he tell you?” 

“That you hit him first,” said Poe, “And you said he’d forced you to be with him.” 

“I pushed him off me,” said Jasper, “And I only said that because I didn’t want anyone thinking I was queer. Didn’t want anyone thinking I liked him, either. He’s always been a freak. We were just messing about. He’s the one who took it all serious.” 

“You should’ve kept your jaw wired shut,” said Poe. 

Jasper rolled his eyes. 

“Get off my fucking porch,” he said.

Poe left, tightening his fists. He’d never wanted to punch anyone more in his life - but that was exactly the problem that gotten Hux in this mess. 

Poe jogged to the car where Hux was waiting, eyes a little red, arms folded around his body protectively. 

“I thought we came here to apologise,” Poe said. He’d meant to say it more softly than it had came out. 

“I am not going to apologise for killing someone who very clearly still alive,” said Hux, “He doesn’t _deserve_ an apology.” 

“You really injured him, Hux,” said Poe, “He could have died.”

“But he’s perfectly fine,” said Hux, “He’s better than me, at least. He still has everything.” 

Poe scoffed, shaking his head. 

“You have plenty,” he said, “You have _millions_ of dollars in a bank account. You’re healthy, you’ve got a place at a great college and you have me, and my dad and joint custody of BB-8.” 

Hux watched him, eyes colder than Poe had seen them. 

“He has a family,” said Hux, “He’s alive.” 

“You’re alive,” Poe said. 

Hux shook his head. 

“Not in the same way. He ruined everything for me. I’m not going to apologise to him.” 

Poe couldn’t hide his frown. 

“You almost killed him - you heard him. He had a brain injury and a metal wiring in his jaw - “” 

Hux’s hands were shaking, but he didn’t show his anger anywhere else. 

“Do you want to know what my father did to me when he found out? Not that I’d half-killed another boy, but that I’d been kissing him? How much detail do you want? Do you want to know how long it took the bruises on my stomach to fade, or about how long I pissed blood afterwards? None of it - _none of it,_ would have happened if he’d been honest about what we were. If he hadn’t thrown the first punch. He wasn’t prepared to finish what he started, I was.” 

Sickness churned in Poe’s stomach. He hadn’t unlocked the car door, and they were both shivering in the snow. 

“I don’t know you,” Poe said. 

“I warned you,” Hux said, “How many times did I tell you I wasn’t a good person? What kind of person attempts to blackmail their father into suicide? Into giving me those millions? Who would do that? And who would like someone who does that?” 

“I don’t like you, right now,” Poe said. 

It had slipped out before he could stop it. 

Hux looked taken aback, like he’d been banking on Poe still liking him. 

Hux having killed someone accidentally and feeling awful about it had been one thing, and that confession had thrown Poe, made him feel odd and empty and scared. 

But Hux not caring that he’d almost killed someone was another reckoning entirely. And it was true, he didn’t like Hux right now, with his eyes sharp and cold and his face spiteful and defiant. 

“Just, get in the car. We’ll go home,” Poe said.

Hux hesitated. He was probably thinking of something cutting and sarcastic to say, though Poe didn’t want to hear it. 

“Your stuff is at my house, if you’re thinking about storming off,” said Poe, “You may as well come back with me. When we get home we’ll talk.” 

When you’ve calmed down, we’ll talk, Poe wants to say. 

He thinks that’ll make Hux angrier. 

Hux lights a cigarette pointedly, leaning against the car door. Poe sighs and climbs into the drivers seat. He starts the engine and turns on the heater and shifts through his Dad’s CDs. He chooses the least musically offensive looking one and puts it in, keeping the volume as high as it would go. 

Eventually Hux climbed into the passenger seat, smelling of smoke.

Poe hated the smell.

“Will you turn it down?” Hux said. 

Poe did as he asked. 

They said almost nothing to each-other on the journey back, which seemed hours longer than it had on the way there. Hux closed his eyes and leaned against the window, but Poe knew he wasn’t sleeping. His breathing was all wrong for that. He tried not to look at him, keeping his eyes fixed on the stretching road ahead. 

Poe was as pissed off as Hux was, maybe even more so. He was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white, and he had an itch in his throat to scream. 

He didn’t know about what, or even if he wanted to scream at Hux. 

When they pulled up outside the house, they both got out silently. Hux was gripping his cigarettes like he was going to hang back outside and smoke, but he followed Poe in. 

Kes and BB were sat on the couch watching a television show about dogs, both staring intently, BB-8’s tail wagging happily whenever the camera focused on a dog playing or barking. BB was too interested in the show to greet properly. 

“Hey,” said Kes, “How did your top secret trip go?” 

“Fine,” said Poe, “Just fine.” 

Kes looked over the back of the couch. Hux was hanging back behind Poe, pale and silent.

“Right,” Kes said, “Not convinced of that. What’s up?” 

“Hux doesn’t like my driving,” Poe said, surprising himself. 

He almost never lied to his Dad. Lying by omission was bad enough. 

Kes didn’t seem to believe him, anyway. 

“Alright,” Kes said, “When you wanna tell me the truth, you know where I am.” 

Poe smiled weakly and nodded, and Hux shadowed him into his bedroom, closing the door behind them. 

“I knew you wouldn’t like me,” said Hux, “As soon as you got to know me.” 

Poe shook his head. 

“Don’t turn this around on me,” Poe said, “This is completely about you. Everything is.”

“What does that mean?” 

“Since we’ve been…since we’ve been friends. It’s been me running around and apologising and you _scheming_ and lying and…being you.”

“No,” said Hux, “That isn’t fair.” 

“No, it isn’t, is it? I always have to reassure you and defend you to my friends.”

“I didn’t ask you to do any of that,” said Hux, “I was happy enough on my own.” 

“Bullshit,” said Poe, “The only reason you attached yourself to me was to get away from your crappy family.” 

Hux finally looked truly hurt, eyebrows knitting themselves together, eyes hard and watery but determined. 

“You came to me,” said Hux. 

“You dragged me up a mountain to talk and spill one of your many ‘I’m-only-an-asshole-‘cause-my-Daddy-is-mean’ stories.” 

Poe regretted that part the second he’d said it, and it was only after that he’d realised he’d been shouting. 

Hux opened his mouth to say something, but the door swung open behind him before he could.

“Armitage? Could you help me with something in the kitchen?” Kes said.

Hux nodded and slipped past Kes. 

“I don’t know what’s going on with you two,” Kes said, “But pull yourself together, son.” 

“If you knew you wouldn’t be taking _his_ side.” 

“I’m not taking his side,” said Kes, “I’m giving you the opportunity to cool that hot-head of yours before you say something else so stupid, right? Dinner will be about thirty minutes. Take shower or something.” 

Poe did as his dad suggested. He stands in the shower for what feels like a long time, mulling things over in his head. 

He is angry. Angry at Hux. Angry at himself. 

He puts sweatpants and an old sports jersey on when he’s finished. 

The kitchen door is open, just a crack, and so he lingers. 

Hux is stirring sauce, his father is checking on a chicken. 

“You’d tell me if Poe was in trouble,” said Kes. 

“Of course,” said Hux, “I don’t want him to get in any sort of trouble.” 

“Good. Then I don’t need to know the details.” 

“Do you want to know?” 

“I’d prefer to know who is living in my house,” said Kes, “Sharing a bed with my son.” 

Poe blushed about that - it was the sort of thing no-one wanted to hear their father say. 

“I got in a fight,” said Hux, “When I was at boarding school. My father told me that the boy had died. That I’d killed him.”

“Oh,” said Kes, “Armitage - “”

“Poe and I went to visit his parents, so I could…I’m not sure. Apologise? Confess my sins? But he was there, he was alive. And I didn’t care anymore. I’m glad I’m not a murderer but I’m not sorry that I hurt him. Poe thinks I should be.” 

“Right,” said Kes, “Poe has a very strong sense of what he finds to be moral.” 

“I know,” said Hux, “What do you think?” 

“I think it’s a complicated situation,” said Kes, “You really hurt that boy?” 

“They took him away in an ambulance,” said Hux. 

“You think you were…justified?” 

“Yes,” said Hux, “I do. I didn’t start the fight.” 

“And your father let you believe you’d killed him for how long?” 

“Nearly four years,” Hux said, “I did feel bad about that, Mr Dameron. I didn’t want to kill anybody. I don’t want to - I don’t want you to think I’d be happy with myself if I had.”

“Okay,” said Kes, “I think that sauce is done.” 

“I’d never hurt Poe,” said Hux, “Even if he hit me first. Which I know he wouldn’t.” 

“I trust you mean that, Armitage,” said Kes, “But maybe give him some space? Sleep on the couch? Or take my bed.” 

“I’ll take the couch,” said Hux, “You won’t let me give you rent money, I couldn’t take your bed, too.” 

Poe chose that moment to step into the kitchen. Hux looked away from him, Kes smiled at him. 

“Just in time,” Kes said, “Sit down.” 

Poe did as he was told. BB came and sat on his feet. 

It helped him relax, a little, more than the shower did. 

“And you,” Kes said, gesturing with a carving knife at Hux. 

Hux did as was told and sat down next to Poe, still not making any eye contact. 

Most of the meal was like that. Hux mostly toyed with his food, flicking dog-safe tidbits to BB-8 went he seemed to think no-one was looking. 

Poe ate heartily, to prove that this argument wasn’t getting to him. He felt sick long before he’d finished half. 

As soon as he’d finished he excused himself and went to bed. But he was restless. He’d sort-off gotten used to Hux being next to him. 

It wasn’t like he was even a great bed-time companion. Hux always seemed to be slightly cold, he had hands and feet like ice even if they’d been under the blankets all night. 

And he was fairly boney, too, long and lean and skinny. 

He shouldn’t miss him so much. 

Hux had a habit of stretching out, too, kicking him carelessly in the leg, elbowing him in the ribs. 

He missed the slow, steady sound of Hux’s breathing. 

When he had trouble sleeping, he’d count the seconds between each breath, a boring, relaxing task. 

He kicked his own blankets off him and sat up in bed. 

Poe wasn’t overreacting about the situation. It was _serious_. 

(Jasper was a real piece of work, Poe would like to him, too). 

Hux had nearly killed someone. 

(Poe had been fights. Any one of them could’ve ended badly). 

He spent a few more moments arguing with himself, and, almost on auto-pilot, found himself kicking off his sheets and leaving his bedroom. 

Hux was on the couch, tucked under several blankets but propped up by pillows, and a dense-looking physics book on his lap, and BB-8 at the opposite end. Little traitor. 

Poe lingered at the edge of the living room, before biting the bullet and striding in. 

Hux looked up. 

“Hi,” said Poe. 

Hux nodded at him, half-polite, half-nervous. 

“Mind if I sit?” Poe said. 

Hux moved his legs, sitting up so Poe could sit down and closing his book. BB-8 stayed as still as a brick, snoring defiantly. 

Poe squeezed between the two of them. 

“I…I understand why you don’t want to apologise to Jasper,” said Poe, “Even if I think you should.” 

“Right,” Hux said, “Do you still dislike me?” 

“No,” said Poe, “I shouldn’t have said that, earlier.” 

“You meant it,” Hux said, “And I needed to hear it.” 

“No. That’s not…” 

“It’s fine, Poe. I don’t like me much, either. Excuse me if I sound self-pitying.” 

Poe pushed his head into his hands. This was going terribly. 

Surprisingly, Hux put his hand on Poe’s shoulder. 

“I love you,” said Hux, “I never loved anyone before. Not even parents or friends or anything like that. But I love you. I want that to be enough. You don’t have to say it back.” 

Poe couldn’t say anything. He just took Hux’s hand from his shoulder and held it in his. 

“What if I mean it,” he said, after consideration, “Even earlier. When I didn’t like you, I still loved you.” 

“I’m sorry for earlier. You were only trying to help.” 

“I’m sorry for making you feel like you weren’t a good person,” said Poe, “I didn’t think it through, what I was saying.” 

“If you were me, would you apologise?” 

“Probably,” said Poe, “But I’ve never been in a situation like this.” 

Hux nodded. Poe watched him closely, leaning towards him. 

“Thank you,” Hux said, “Are you going to kiss me or just think about it?”

Poe took Hux’s t-shirt in his hands and pulled him closer. Hux let the book that was on his lap slip to the floor. 

They kissed softly at first, and then fell deeper into each-other. Poe let his hands find Hux’s hair, which was soft and freshly washed and freed from the way he usually styled it back. 

Hux made a soft moaning sound. Poe shifted, pushing back against Hux. 

And then Poe felt a disgusting, soppy drip on his cheek and they sprung apart as BB-8 attempted to join in, smothering Poe with licks and Poe tried to push the dog away from him without hurting him or making too much noise. 

Hux laughed at him, picking his book off from the floor. 

“I guess that’s that,” said Poe. 

“Is he a better kisser than me?” Hux said. 

“Not that I’d say to your face,” Poe said, “Are you coming to bed?” 

“Me or BB-8?” 

“Both of you, I suppose.” 

*

The holidays approached with frightening speed. Poe knew that as soon as they were over, Hux would start planning his move. 

Poe was sort-of curious was Hux was doing all day. He might be sat at home with a newly brought laptop, or cellphone, one horrible day he’d brought a suitcase. 

He didn’t speak much about what he did all day. Occasionally he’d go to the boxing gym (and Poe still felt a bit jealous about that, especially the evening that Ben had driven him home). 

Hux and Kes spent a lot of time together, too. Poe was happy that they got along, but he was starting to feel side-lined by the both of them. He was sure that they still had secrets. 

Hux would leave early on Saturdays and disappear with BB-8 for the day. Poe hadn’t asked him to, but was incredibly grateful that he did. 

BB-8 would inevitably come home exhausted and being carried by Hux, who had also started to teach him tricks. 

And then Hux would disappear back to boxing gym, only coming back late. Poe felt a little bad about that, thinking about inviting Hux to join in their precious private time in the garage. Hux hadn’t expressed any particular interest in cars, but he was mechanically-minded. A fresh pair of eyes might offer a new prospective (although honest and sometimes downright unsentimental Hux would be just as likely to advise them to simply scrap the car as he was to offer any solutions). 

Sundays were perfect. Kes was out half the day, and so Hux and Poe could do whatever they wanted. 

They still had different ideas of how time is best spent. Hux seemed to convinced he’d be behind everyone else in his class in the Spring, so he spent hours reading textbooks with the sort of equations Poe would avoid like the plague. He’d help Poe with math or science homework, sometimes. If Hux really wanted quiet then Poe would draw. He was actually working on a little comic-book for Hux to take with him, but he preferred to do that while Hux was away. Poe didn’t want to risk ruining the surprise. 

Ideally, if you asked Poe, they would spend the entire morning in bed. Cuddling, kissing, maybe more…Hux always seemed to draw the line when they got too far, and Poe didn’t want to be the type of guy to push it. 

Hux wouldn’t stay in bed past eight-thirty, even if they’d gone to sleep late the night before. 

“I have to go for a run,” he’d say, “And you have to brush your teeth.” 

“I thought we’d agreed on you taking a rest day once a week,” Poe said. 

“I didn’t agree to that,” Hux said, “But I won’t go tomorrow.” 

“I’ve got school tomorrow,” said Poe. 

“And?” 

“I have no way of knowing if you actually went through with it.” 

Hux pulled away from Poe’s arms and rolled out of the bed gracelessly. 

“I am capable of telling the truth, you know,” said Hux. 

_Not about this,_ Poe wanted to say, because he’d caught Hux lying about eating and exercise several times since he’d been living there. More than several. 

He’d spent a lot of time researching on the internet, fighting himself to withhold judgement and not play armchair psychologist, and he knew that Hux wasn’t going to wake up and decide not to having an eating disorder and he’d be magically cured, just like that. Life wasn’t a made-for-tv movie or very special episode. 

“Can I come with you?” Poe said. 

“I won’t stop you,” said Hux, “But I’m not going to slow down for you.” 

“What makes you think you need to slow down for me?” Poe said, “I’m fit as a dog.” 

“If _your_ dog is anything to go by…” Hux said, changing into a pair of running shorts that left little to the imagination. Poe wasn’t much a of a blusher, but his cheeks flamed. 

“Don’t start that again, Hugs,” He said, “You know I did baseball until last year. And I go to the gym.” 

Hux smiled, and looked him up and down. 

“Yes, I am very aware of the time you spend in the gym,” he said, “I prefer to run alone.” 

“OK,” said Poe, “Just don’t overdo it.” 

“I won’t, Poe,” Hux said, “I’ll be back in less than an hour.” 

Poe smiled and cuddled back up with BB-8, watching Hux leave. He only stayed in bed for a few more minutes. 

If Hux was going to insist on going out for a run, then Poe would cook him breakfast. He had a quick shower and got dressed. He didn’t exactly dress up, but he put on a pair of his better jeans and a new plaid shirt that he’d never worn before. 

He’d been cooking since he was a kid, his dad made sure of that. His mom wasn’t much of a cook, though she could make mean pancakes - which is what he wanted now. 

They wouldn’t take very long to actually cook, so he busied himself with preparing fresh fruit: chopped banana and blueberries, with a side-salad of melon and orange wedges. He thought Hux would probably prefer that to pancakes, as much as he hoped Hux would at least be willing to try the pancakes. He set the table ready, centring the fruit and maple syrup. 

He flirted with the idea of going out to pick a couple of flowers from the garden, but he thought that might be taking the romantic breakfast thing a bit too seriously. 

He’d managed to time things pretty well, Hux turning up just as he was piling up the last pancake. 

“Hey,” Poe said, “Breakfasts up.” 

Hux’s smile was tight and unconvincing. 

“I really should shower,” Hux said. 

Poe rolled his eyes. 

“It can wait twenty minutes,” Poe said, “Just have some fruit if you really don’t want to eat pancakes.” 

“No,” Hux said, “I’ll have a pancake. Just give me five minutes in the bathroom.” 

Poe huffed dramatically, but smirked to himself and Hux wandered off down the hall. He put the pancakes into the oven to keep them warm, and set the kettle atop the stove to make Hux tea, pouring himself some orange juice was he waited. 

Hux was true enough to his word, and came back wearing a nice green sweater and soft grey pants, his hair wet and still dripping. 

He sat down in what Poe had started to consider Hux’s own seat, stroking BB-8’s fur with his bare feet (he had nice feet, Poe found himself thinking, especially for a runner). 

“Where’s my breakfast, then?” Hux said. 

“Don’t be so impatient,” Poe said, “You’ll get it when you get it.” 

“You’d make a terrible waiter,” said Hux, “You wouldn’t get any tips at all with that attitude.” 

“I’ll get plenty of tips ‘cause I’m handsome,” Poe said, “No cheery customer-is-always-right crap needed.” 

He put Hux’s tea down in front of him before returning to the oven to pick up the plate of pancakes. 

“Thanks, I don’t think I’ve had pancakes in…” Hux paused, “A long time.” 

He helped himself, adding a few blueberries but forgoing the maple syrup, which Poe though mildly sacrilegious.

“What have you been doing?” Poe said, piling his own plate with a little of everything. 

“I went for a run…and then had a very fast shower,” Hux said, “I thought you knew. These are nice,” 

“Thanks,” said Poe, “I meant while I’ve been at schooling.” 

“Studying,” Hux said, “Reading. I found a new therapist.” 

“Really?” Poe said, nearly choking, “I thought you said…”

“I found one in England who was willing to do video chat sessions until I moved there,” said Hux, “So we’ve been speaking three times a week.” 

“That’s great news,” Poe said, grinning. 

“Don’t look at me like, you sap,” said Hux, “It’ll probably only be twice a week when I move there, and then hopefully once a week by September.” 

“I’m pr - ”

“If you say you’re proud of me for speaking some quack on Skype, I’ll stab you, Dameron.” 

Poe shut himself up with a mouthful of pancakes but couldn’t stop himself from grinning. 

“Why didn’t you mention it?” 

“I really don’t like to talk about that sort of thing,” Hux said, “Let’s move on. What do you want to do today?” 

“I want to curl up with you on couch and watch the worst Christmas movie we can find,” Poe said, “One so bad that you’ll think your brain cells are dying out, one that’ll make you want to cry.” 

“That would be all Christmas movies,” said Hux. 

“What do you want to do then, Hugs?” 

“Whatever you want to do,” said Hux. 

“Good.” 

*

The holidays arrived and the anxiety that swelled with the coming of Hux’s departure date gave way to a familiar, childish glee that Poe always felt around Christmas. They weren’t a religious family, and celebrated the holiday in a passive, almost secular sort of way. They had their own traditions, mostly informed by their heritage. There wasn’t a very big immigrant community in town, and Poe and Kes were the only Guatemalans, so they couldn’t have a traditional celebration. 

After they’d eaten on Christmas Eve (tamales, of course), while waiting for midnight, Kes and BB and Poe watched the Muppets Christmas Carol, as they had done every year that Poe could remember. He practically knew all the words by heart, and though Hux had said he’d never seen it, he’d slipped out halfway through. 

When he failed to reappear after a few minutes, Poe paused the old DVD and went to hunt him down. 

“What’re you doing?” 

Hux was sat in the dark, face lit up only by the glow of the laptop screen. 

“Sending my father his Christmas present,” Hux said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disrupt you.” 

Poe went to sit next to him, pushing himself against Hux so they could share the chair. 

“What are you sending him?” 

“Just a message,” Hux said, and rubbed his eyes. 

Poe noticed that he looked tired - like he hadn’t slept well in a couple of days. Poe hadn’t been, either, but this was mostly due to excitement. 

“I don’t know if I should,” Hux said, “What should I do, Poe?” 

It only took Poe a few seconds to scan the screen - it was an email containing a quick note from Hux and a link to a few files. 

“Is it the rehab school stuff?” Poe said. 

Hux nodded. 

“You told your father that you wouldn’t.” 

“I was lying,” Hux said, “I always planned to release this stuff, as soon as I had what I wanted.” 

“Do it,” said Poe. 

“I thought you’d give me a reason not to,” said Hux, “Reprimand me for lying.” 

“Not this time,” Poe said, “This is the right thing to do. Your father deserves whatever comes his way. Merry fucking Christmas.”

Hux sniffed. 

“Merry fucking Christmas it is,” he said, and clicked send on the email. 

Poe kissed his neck, closed the laptop, and took Hux’s hand to pull him to his feet and drag him back to watch the movie. 

At midnight, after the muppets and a couple of Simpsons episodes, they went into the backyard to light sparklers, fun though slightly underwhelming to the pyrotechnics Poe knew would be going in the place that, in his heart, he still thought of as home. 

Holding hands with Hux and writing their names in light, watching his Dad tease BB-8 and drinking fruit punch under the stars felt like home, too. 

It was a shame it couldn’t last forever. Nothing did, of course. Somewhere between Christmas and New Year Hux seemed to close up again, keeping himself to himself more and more. And then one morning, Poe woke up to a note that said very little more than ‘sorry’. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is the end of this fic? Yes. Is it the end of the story? Nope!   
> I should post the sequel fairly soon, but I might post the first chapter of a different Poe/Hux AU before hand. If I do that, it doesn't mean the sequel is abandoned!   
> Thank you to everyone for reading, kudos(ing?) commenting and bookmarking!


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